


Marriage(s) of Convenience

by ElijahTheEmuMan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Always see a piercing professional, Angst, Animal Death, Ao3 put up NB/ pairing tags please, Astronomy, Auras, Aziraphale is thicc, Aziraphale: let me brush your hair dear, Caroline Herschel - Freeform, Clothes do not equal gender, Comedy, Crawly - Freeform, Crowley is a feral gay, Crowley: hisses, Dismemberment, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Frey honey I’m so sorry i treated you like this, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Historical References, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired By Tumblr, John Mulaney References, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Matelotage, Mutual Pining, NB/NB, Neo Pronouns, Non-Explicit Sex, Other, POV Change, Piercings, Pirates, References to Monty Python, Sex and gender are different, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Swordfighting, Talking About Gender, Tortuga, Unless you can magically heal, Unsafe Piercing Practices, Vikings, Witchcraft, awful euphemisms for genitals, beelz has a benis, cheesy romance novel sex scenes, crowley has a horrible little rat man mustache, deadname, french navy, gabe has a vagine, important, me a transman: gender sucks and i hate it, misgendering for protection, my long suffering fiance: yes dear, overindulgent quoting of song of solomon, pannier, refusing to talk about feelings, running real fast and loose here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-07-23 14:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20009515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElijahTheEmuMan/pseuds/ElijahTheEmuMan
Summary: What do you do when you're in love and refuse to talk about your feelings like the several millennia old beings that you are? Why, come up with increasingly ridiculous reasons to get married, of course!





	1. Envy: Pain At the Sight of Another’s Good Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this lovely tumblr post: https://quillomens.tumblr.com/post/186553705183/okay-but-the-opposite-of-6000-years-of-pining  
> I had a great time writing this and I can't wait to continue! Please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawly and Aziraphale witness a human wedding.

**Not Very Long After the Beginning**

Crawly was sitting up in a tree, watching the humans. Sitting being a rather loose definition of what he was doing, of course, because sitting sort of implies having a bottom, and snakes don’t really have bottoms now do they. A more accurate word for what his body was doing would be hanging. Part of his coils were wrapped around a tree branch, and his neck was hanging down below the leaves to watch.

The group of humans was large and loud. They seemed to be celebrating something, but what that was Crawly wasn’t quite sure. He flicked his tongue out to scent the air. He could smell all sorts of foods and perfumes. He flicked his tongue out again. This group of people seemed to be mostly men. Some of the humans were coming in and out of the house they were beside with foods and things to sit on while others played instruments and danced. There was an air of happiness, but also a feeling of waiting. 

A cry suddenly went up in the crowd, people turning to look in the direction behind Crawly. He turned to look and saw another group of humans approaching. With a tongue flick he ascertained that this group was mostly women. The groups met and the excitement doubled. Two humans in particular stuck out to Crawly’s discerning yellow eyes. One was a young man, the other a young woman. They were obviously dressed in their finest clothes, and the other humans seemed to sort of orbit around them. _Ah, this party must be for them, then._ Crawly thought.

An older man, probably an elder in the community, stood before the assembled group. In a clear, strong voice, he started to speak to the assembled humans. He spoke of tying two families together, which made no sense to the snake. Families? Joining them? Yeah okay, sure. Then the elder started talking about commitment and fidelity and _what the fuck is love?_ Crawly felt a sniggling feeling of _deja vu_ at the mention of love. It felt like when you first meet someone and then forget their name. It was right on the tip of Crawly’s forked tongue, and he felt like he was so close to figuring it out when the two humans leaned towards each other and pressed their lips together and the crowd cheered, returning to the dancing and celebrating.

Crawly almost fell out of the tree. He just managed to wrap another coil around the branch before he fell on some unsuspecting human’s head. While he enjoyed scaring humans with this form, he had seen what they do to snakes, usually involving big sticks, and there were way too many of them there to deal with. He didn’t want to deal with a discorporation before he could figure out what this was. He took some deep breaths that he really didn’t need, but it was calming nonetheless. He gripped his branch firmer, and continued watching the humans. 

The two humans who had touched mouths were sitting close together on some cushions. People, family members and friends, brought up little gifts of food and cloth and tools for the couple. Juvenile humans (Kids? Or were those goats?) ran screeching and playing through the crowd. One even jumped up on the young woman’s lap and pecked her cheek several times with their lips, causing both her and the young man to laugh. 

Crawly strained his ears to try and hear what that was called. He’d seen it done before. He’d seen it in the Garden, after all. But he couldn’t remember what it was called. Humans really seemed to enjoy doing it. Especially when they were mating. Crawly thought for a second, then hissed. Was this some sort of pre-mating ceremony? What a weird thing to do. Animals didn’t make a big deal about it, they just did it. 

_Don’t they?_ Crawly thought. He closed his eyes and thought about all the times he’d seen animals mating. He’d seen birds dance to attract a mate, and build colorful nests. He’d seen fish turn bright colors. Hell, lions fought before they mated. Crawly opened his eyes. This must just be what humans like to do before mating. But all that other stuff about commitment and...love? He wasn’t quite sure he understood. The bits about commitment and fidelity seemed to imply that humans mate for life. Suddenly, new ideas for temptation and mischief creating into Crawly’s mind.

_I could tempt them into infidelity. That would be new._ But that mysteriously familiar word, love, was still niggling at his mind. Crawly was sure he knew what that word meant. He’d heard it somewh-

“Azzzzzziraphale! The Angel hassssss talked about love!” Crawly whispered to himself, ducking into the leaves when a human turned to look at him. Thinking about the Angel of the Eastern Gate made Crawly’s stomach do something weird, like he had an even tinier snake living inside of him and wiggling around in there. He quickly slithered through the tree and snapped up a bird he found. He made a mental note to remember to eat sometimes.

Crawly cast his awareness out to locate the Angel. His heart does a painful somersault when he finds the Angel’s aura. Aziraphale was right there! Mingling with the humans! Determined to figure out what was going on, Crawly climbed down the tree and into some bushes. He transformed into a human shape, complete with a fine black robe and some colorful string in his long red braids. Telling himself that its to help him blend in with the revelers and had nothing to do with birds, Crawly sauntered into the mass of humans.

Crawly let his senses and magical awareness lead him to Aziraphale. When he finally found him, he was a bit surprised. The Angel was sitting on a stool, dressed in fine clothes like everyone else. His blonde curls absolutely shone in the sunlight, and his blue eyes sparkled. His robe was white and he was barefoot, like Crawly. He was speaking to an elderly human woman sitting beside him. Crawly could see people glancing over at the Angel occasionally, and he felt another painful stab in his chest. Must be indigestion. He probably shouldn’t have eaten that bird. He scratched out his previous mental note and replaced it with one to remind him to avoid eating.

Aziraphale’s appearance and the heartburn wasn’t what surprised Crawly. What surprised him was that the Angel was eating, and by the look of the crumbs on his lap, had been eating for awhile. 

Crawly walked right forward and plopped right down on a cushion by the Aziraphale’s feet, stealing a couple grapes from him in the process.

“Nice party, eh, Aziraphale?” Crawly said, his mouth full of fruit. Aziraphale jumped in surprise and glared down at him.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” He demanded.

“I could ask the same of you! Sampling the local delicacies I see.”

Aziraphale blushed a little and Crawly felt his stupid stomach flip. Probably the grapes. “I-I was invited to the wedding! But I highly doubt you were!”

Ah, so it was called a wedding. Crawly stretched his legs out, drawing Aziraphale’s eye towards the movement. “I was in that tree over there. I was curious and wanted to see what they were doing. Why were you invited?”

Aziraphale fidgeted in his seat. “If you must know, a couple decades ago I helped deliver the bride from her mother’s womb.” He turned to look at the young woman, the “bride”, sitting a few feet away. A certain fondness settled on his face. “They do grow up awfully fast, humans do.”

The look on Aziraphale’s face caused another wave of _deja vu_ to wash over Crawly. He decided that this was involved with love, and he had indeed come to the right place for information.

Crawly cleared his throat in a rather failed effort to look nonchalant, which got Aziraphale’s attention. “I heard that old fellow talking about something called ‘love’. You wouldn’t happen to know what that is, would you?”

Aziraphale stared down at Crawly, and Crawly stared back up at him. The look on the Angel’s face was absolutely dumbfounded. Totally bewildered. Completely perplexed. Dude was confused, let me tell you.

Crawly whistled and waved his hand in front of Aziraphale’s face. “Hello? Earth to angel?”

Aziraphale started and grabbed Crawly’s hand to get it out of his face. “You don’t need to do that, my dear boy, you just caught me off guard. You don’t remember love?”

Crawly shook his head, eyes locked onto where Aziraphale was still holding his hand. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him in a way that was even close to affectionate. This casual touch made his skin tingle and the sense of familiarity pushed even harder at his brain.

Aziraphale patted the top of Crawly’s hand with his other, and smiled at him. His voice got very quiet, so quiet that only the two of them could hear. “Do you remember how it felt before you Fell? Being around God? How She’d embrace us and tell us how much She loves us? Even here on Earth I can still feel it, even though I haven’t spoken to Her since the Garden. Surely you must remember it?”

Crawly felt phantom arms wrapped around him. A memory of Someone comforting him from so long ago. Someone touching his hair. A gentle pressure against his cheek. And then he heard a tiny voice. Not Her voice, but a memory of it.

_“I love you, my darling creation.”_

Crawly felt a finger touch his cheek under his eye, and he jumped. He looked up and saw Aziraphale looking at him. His finger was extended, and was damp. Crawly touched his own face and his hand came away wet. “What the hell? Am I leaking?”

“No, dear boy, you’re crying,” Aziraphale said, pulling a small square of cloth out of thin air. He gave it to Crawly, pantomiming wiping his face with it. Crawly did as prompted.

“No need to worry, crying is rather common at weddings, I’m told. It’s all the love, I think. It gets overwhelming. Oh, that’s right, love.” Aziraphale opened his mouth to start explaining, but Crawly interrupted him.

“I remember it, angel. I remember what love feels like. I think I just forgot for a moment.” Crawly flicked the cloth back at the Angel, who caught it effortlessly and shoved it into a pocket. 

The wedding went on and on while an Angel and Demon sat in a strangely comfortable silence. Aziraphale still held Crawly’s hand in his lap, tapping it to get his attention every so often. 

Crawly watched the bride and the groom (as he eventually learned it was called) eating and laughing and pressing their faces together. They seemed so...happy together. The groom would say something and the bride would laugh. The bride would offer the groom some food and he’d let her feed him. They seemed like very dear old friends. 

Crawly hated it. All these humans with their happiness and their love and their enjoyment. Why couldn’t Crawly have any of that? 

Lightbulbs didn’t exist yet, but one went off in Crawly’s head in that instant anyway.

“Aziraphale, let’s get married!” He said, jumping up to his knees and sticking his face in Aziraphale’s.

The Angel pulled back, his eyes wide. “What for, Crawly? It’s not like we have land we could merge, or the need to produce offspring!”

Crawly stood up so that now _he_ was holding _Aziraphale’s_ hand in both of his. “Everyone else is doing it, angel, why can’t we? You don’t think the humans would get rather suspicious about you not pairing off with one of them?” Aziraphale looked thoughtful. Crawly kept going. “And besides, don’t you want to experience everything humanity has to offer? How can you help them if you don’t understand them?” The Angel’s eyebrows rose. He was a seeing Crawly’s point. “It could be fun! And in a couple centuries when everyone who was there has died, then it won’t really count anymore! Come on, angel, what do you say? Marry me?”

Aziraphale chewed on his lip, deep in thought. Then he stood up with Crawly, adding his other hand to the others. “Well, alright my dear boy. Just so we can say we had the experience. But no one in our respective offices can find out!”

Crawly snorted. “They’re not going to find out, angel. It’ll be secret!” 

Aziraphale nodded, still looking a bit unsure, but eager nonetheless.

Before they could say anything else, the bride and groom stood up. There were some hearty laughs from some of the humans gathered, and some blushing on the part of the newlyweds.

“What’re they doing now?” Crawly asked.

“Ah, hm. I do believe they’re going to consummate their marriage.” Aziraphale had a little bit of pink in his cheeks.

“Conssumate?” Crawly hissed to himself.

The newlyweds were hugging their guests, all smiles and blushes. Then they grabbed hands and walked into the house. A rowdy cheer went up from some of the groom’s drunk friends. A thought clicked into place in Crawly’s head.

“Are you sssssssaying they’re going to mate? Right now? Everyone is sssssssstill here!”

“Oh calm down, you’re hissing. And humans don’t call it mating, they call it ahem, having sex.” Aziraphale’s blush got deeper.

“Ssssssssex. Isssss that a requirement for marriage?” Crawly felt his hands, still holding onto Aziraphale, get very sweaty. He quickly snatched them away to wipe them on his robes.

“I don’t believe so, but it does seem to be an important part of the ritual,” said Aziraphale, looking at his hands.

“We uhhh, ngk, we don’t have to uh do that part if you don’t want to.” Crawly felt like his heart was racing at a million miles per hour, and his stomach was flipping over and over. 

“Well. If we really want to know what the humans go through, I suppose we’ll have to. Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course.” Aziraphale was watching Crawly very intently.

Crawly took a second to turn his tongue back into a vaguely human looking one before he responded. “I would be alright with it if you were. For the sake of undersstanding the humanss.”

“Of course, it would be completely professional.”

“Of course, completely 100% professional marriage and sex having.” Crawly thought he was going to burst into flame. What a weird feeling. They were doing this to understand humanity more. Aziraphale so he can help them, and Crawly so he can tempt them. This is fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

“Then in the morning we shall speak with the priest, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked, his voice strangely thick and stiff.

“I’ll meet you after breakfast, angel.” And then Crawly disappeared into the grass.

———————————————————————————————————————

The next morning, Crawly crawled out of the den he had dug that night before. He’d been learning bad habits from the Earth snakes, preferring to dig a hole to sleep in rather than going back Down There. He pulled his massive body out of the ground, and morphed from snake-shaped to man-shaped. Then he thought for a moment about what he’d seen at the wedding, and what Aziraphale had said about apparent reasons to get married. He adjusted his clothes to look more feminine but still all black. Crawly made her hair long and loose with one little braid to keep it out of her face. A scarf appeared out of thin air and aligned itself on Crawly’s hair and over her shoulders. There was a cough from nearby.

Crawly spun around and hissed at whoever was watching her. 

Aziraphale put his hands up in a gesture of peace.

Crawly relaxed and made her way over to him.

“What do you think, angel? You said something about marriage being about having kids or something, so look! I look just like a female human!” Crawly did a little twirl to show Aziraphale.

“Yes, well, ah, I don’t mind either way to honest, I think you’re quite pleasant to look at already, but uh, you’re right we might blend in better uh, like this.”

Crawly didn’t really listen past “you’re quite pleasant to look at.'' She shook herself, then looped her arm through Aziraphale’s and they started walking into the village. They talked about their nights, and how Crawly slept, and I found your den by tracking your aura, et cetera. Crawly inspected her companion. Aziraphale was again wearing a white robe, but simpler, more of an everyday robe. He still had his little gold pinky ring, and in his bare feet. Aziraphale was chittering along, sounding nervous. It soon became obvious to Crawly that Aziraphale was familiar with the layout of the human settlement. He led her to a house that had a gaggle of people hanging around the door, coming in and out of the building. Family members, Crawly supposed. Aziraphale spoke with a woman with a baby on her hip, who disappeared into the house.

A particularly bold child came up to Crawl and pointed at her, babbling in a babyish voice. Crawly couldn’t immediately understand his gibberish, not completely used to the human’s language let alone a baby talk version, but she could make out “eyes”. She moved to pull her scarf further over her eyes, but the toddler grunted and threw his hands in the air. 

“Up!”

Crawly looked at Aziraphale, who smiled and nodded in encouragement. Crawly released Aziraphale’s arm, then leaned down and picked up the child, plopping him on her hip like she’d seen the human women do. The child squealed in joy and being picked up by someone new. Then the little boy did something Crawly didn’t expect. He put his little hands on her face, stroking her skin around her eyes.

“You’re pretty,” he said.

Crawly had never been called pretty before, but she found that she rather liked it. She felt her cheeks warm up, and she figured that she must’ve been blushing. She looked back at Aziraphale, who was smiling, and had a strange gleam in his eyes. Something soft and squishy. Crawly could only keep eye contact with him for a second before looking back at the little boy on her hip. 

“You have snake eyes,” the boy said, Crawly’s understanding getting a bit better with each second.

Feeling playful, Crawly stuck her (very human looking) tongue out and hissed at the child. He screamed in absolute happiness before mimicking her.

“Tttthhhhhhhh!” He tried, sticking his tongue between his teeth.

Crawly spent the next couple minutes helping the kid practice his hissing, much to the amusement to one Angel next to her. Once satisfied with his hissing, the boy wiggled to be let down, then chased after one of his fellows, hissing the whole time.

Crawly looked again to Aziraphale. He was looking at her quite fondly.

“You know, Crawly, just now you were quite ni-”

“Bahbahbahbah!” Crawly interrupted. “Don’t call me nice, I’m not nice! I’m a Demon!”

Aziraphale shook his head the way you would a misbehaving child. Crawly felt herself scowling at him.

Before she could say anything scathing, the elder man from yesterday emerged from the house and walked up to them.

“Good morning, Aziraphale, my friend!” The man grabbed pulled Aziraphale into a hug. “And who might this be?” He asked, gesturing to Crawly.

“Well, Ezra, this is Crawly, my uh, my betrothed.” Aziraphale placed a hand on Crawly’s back, and Crawly swore her skin burned under it.

“Betrothed? Come here, child!” And Crawly was immediately pulled into a hug. Being called “child” by a human was strange, considering Crawly was already extremely old even at the Garden, but it was pleasantly familiar, like something from Before. 

Ezra released Crawly after a second, then looked at both of them. “How can I help you, friends?” He asked.

“We would like one marriage, please,” Aziraphale chirped.

Ezra nodded very seriously. “Of course, Aziraphale. What more can I do for the man that saved my youngest daughter? We’ll marry you today! If you don’t mind leftovers, of course.”

Oh, so the bride yesterday was Ezra’s daughter. Of course Aziraphale was friends with him. Crawly looked closer at the human. He had a pleasant, old face. It was wrinkled in some places, and judging by how he spoke, they were probably from smiling and laughing. Something about his aura was full of unbridled joy.

“We don’t need anything crazy, Ezra. Something small and intimate would be just fine,” Aziraphale said, cautiously.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’ll invite the whole family.” And with that, Ezra patted Aziraphale on the shoulder and turned to go inside, already shouting orders to his assembled family members. 

Aziraphale turned and smiled sheepishly at Crawly. “He’s a very passionate man, Ezra is.”

“That’s fine, I like a good party,” Crawly said, looping her arm around Aziraphale’s once more. It had become very comfortable, holding his arm like this. It was thicker than hers, and felt strong. His forearms were dusted with blonde hair that Crawly found very pleasing. She felt her stomach about to do some acrobatics, but she stamped it down before it could really bug her. 

Aziraphale patted her hand with his, lingering for just a second. An instant later, a small group of women came towards them from the house, all talking at once. The one at the front, probably Ezra’s wife, took Crawly’s hand and started speaking over her daughters and granddaughters.

“Hello, Crawly dear, I’m Shira, Ezra’s better half.” Oh yeah, Crawly already liked this human. “I’m going to pull you away from Azirah here so we can get you ready for your wedding.”

“Azirah?” Crawly mouthed at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and gently shook his head in the universal “best not to ask” head shake.

And then Shira was pulling Crawly away and into the house, passing a group of men on their way to Aziraphale. 

Crawly was taken into a room with a tub and various sweet smelling bottles. Seeing where this was going, Crawly hurriedly edited her body. She thought of Eve, the only human woman she had really been close enough to inspect. She quickly grew some small breasts, and made an Effort. She had to guess as to what That actually looked like, and she hoped that these humans wouldn’t look to closely.

The human women quickly went to work. They stripped Crawly of her robe, and unbranded her hair. She climbed into the tub, and received the first bath of her entire existence. It was amazing. She got her skin scrubbed and her hair washed. After the bath she got dried off and dressed in fresh clothes that mysteriously had turned black when no one was looking. One of Shira’s younger granddaughters braided a few plaits into Crawly’s long red curls. While they worked, the women asked Crawly many questions about her betrothed, such as “What is his trade?” And “What did he give your father in exchange for marrying you?” This is how Crawly discovered that the pair from last night had already been legally married for a couple of years, and last night was when they consummated and celebrated the union.

“Well, he guarded some land for my uh...father...and that is how we met, of course.” Crawly had always found that the best lies were ones that were based on truth. Why she was lying to a bunch of humans that she’d probably never see again, she wasn’t quite sure. “It was quite the whirlwind romance, ladies, let me tell you. We’d meet next to the wall surrounding the garden” Shira and some of the older women looked appropriately scandalized, while some of the younger ones squealed. “Instead of payment for his work, all Aziraphale asked for was my hand in marriage,” Crawly finished, sighing and placing her hand over her heart, enjoying the approving chatter from her audience.

A child ran into the room just then. “Everything is ready for the wedding!” Then she hissed at Crawly.

Apparently it had become popular among the herd of cousins.

As many large families are, this one was very excited for an opportunity to have a big get together, even if they had just had one the night before, especially for an old family friend. Crawly could already hear people gathered outside as she was herded out of the house. She looked up through the assembled humans.

_Oh, Satan,_ she thought.

There weren’t as many people as before, just the family. There were no fancy decorations or musical instruments or dancing. There was some dinner set up to the side, but that was it. And standing just a few paces in front of Crawly? The Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate. He looked just as scrubbed down as Crawly felt, wearing white like always. He didn’t look any different, really. Everything was exactly the same. 

Except for his eyes. Aziraphale’s eyes were locked right onto Crawly, staring at her wide eyed. The same squishy look from when Crawly was playing with the child was back, accompanied with something different. It was a look that Crawly was unfamiliar with, but something about it was drawing her in. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his. That is, until his face split into a massive smile. Crawly felt her face grow very warm.

_Don’t blush, you idiot. What will he think? Wait, I don’t care what he thinks, blush more! NO DO NOT DO THAT! Fuck, just focus on walking._

Somehow she made it to Aziraphale’s side and he took her hand. 

Ezra was standing beside them, and he started speaking. “Today we bear witness to the fulfillment of a contract. Today, Crawly leaves her father’s house and join Aziraphale’s, who we have adopted as our own brother. We will be glad and rejoice in you, we will praise your love more than wine!” He turned to Aziraphale expectantly.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, and then seemed to speak to Crawly and Crawly alone. “You are beautiful, my dear, you are beautiful, you have ravished my heart with one of your eyes. I have come into my garden, my dear, my bride. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Set me as a seal on your heart, as a seal on your arm; for love is strong as death. Jealousy is as cruel as hell. Its flashes are flashes of fire. You who dwelt in the garden, with friends in attendance, let me hear your voice.”

Because Demons are occult beings and not ruled by the same rules we are, Crawly was able to do several things in the course of less than a millisecond.

The first thing she did was gulp down a hard lump that had formed in her throat.

The second was start panicking.

_Did he make that up on the spot? Has he always been that eloquent? Or maybe he rehearsed it. Wait are there preset lines we’re supposed to recite? I don’t know my lines, what do I do?! I can’t just stand here, I have to say something. What do I say, what do I say??_

_Speak from your heart, beloved._

_The fuck kind of advice is that, inner Crawly? I don’t have a heart, I’m a Demon! I’m a mean, evil, nasty Demon! But, his eyes...and his smile...WHAT IS GOING ON WITH ME?! I feel so...so...gross! Gross? No, not gross. It’s, ngk. I dunno._

_Love._

If TVs and TV static had been invented yet, Crawly would say that her head filled with static at that thought. But it hadn’t yet, so her head was silent. Then she thought _fuck it_ and started speaking.

“As the apple tree among the treesss of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. My beloved is white and ruddy. The best among ten thoussand. His head is like the purest gold. I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with appless; For I am faint with love. Turn away your eyes from me, for they have overcome me, angel. I was assleep, but my heart was awake. Many waters can’t quench love, neither can floods drown it. Come away, my beloved!”

Crawly wasn’t sure where most of that came from, but what she was sure of was that it was truth. She might not remember what it was like to exist in God’s light anymore, and she might be a Demon, but if there was one thing she was absolutely sure of, it was this: 

Crawly was in love with Aziraphale.

———————————————————————————————————————

It was two hours later. Crawly had spent two hours by Aziraphale’s side, eating and being congratulated, her anxiety rising by the minute. She had just realized she was in love with an Angel, gotten married to said Angel, and now they had been shooed off to have sex in order to consummate said marriage. So one could say that she was a bit nervous.

They were in a different house. This one was apparently Aziraphale’s, and Crawly felt awkward. Aziraphale had a house among the humans, and she was sleeping in the ground. As a snake. Crawly didn’t even know where humans slept in houses. All she had seen so far was the tub. 

Aziraphale closed the front door and waved hi hand over it. “No one will be opening that any time soon,” he said. He folded his hands together behind his back. “Crawly, my dear, if you would be happier in a different form, I do believe it would be quite safe to change back. You don’t have to, of course! It’s your corporation, so just um, do whatever makes you comfortable, please.”

“I’m pretty comfortable like this, angel. It’s different, and fun.” 

“Yes, right, well I suppose we should get to it, then? With the next part of the ritual?” Aziraphale was looking anywhere but at Crawly.

For her part, Crawly was looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. “Right. Have you uh, done thisss before?” She asked, her voice cracking.

“Heavens no! But I uh, did see Adam and Eve doing it a lot in the Garden, and our corporations do tend to know how to do most human things, so it shouldn’t be too hard, I think.”

“Angel, I alsso saw Adam and Eve doing it, and I’m pretty sure ‘hard’ is part of the point.”

Aziraphale seemed to choke on his own spit.

They stood very still, staring at each, for what seemed like hours. But again, the laws of physics don’t apply to them the same way, so it could’ve been mere seconds. Hours, seconds, it didn’t matter. Crawly couldn’t take another second of this weird tension, so she made a move. She did that thing she saw them do yesterday. The thing she’d seen people doing in all sorts of places all day. The thing she’d heard called a “kiss.”

She leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale right on the mouth.

His soft intake of breath surprised her, and so did his hands when they lighted in her hair to pull her closer. 

Neither of them kissed very well, seeing as how this was a first for them, but it felt nice nonetheless. The kiss turned deeper, and warmer, and Crawly found that her corporation had instincts she never even knew about.

So, it seemed, did Aziraphale’s. He picked her up and carried her to a rectangular pile of blankets and pillows, dropping to his knees and placing her on her back like she was something precious.

“What isssss thissssssss?” Crawly asked, wiggling in to get more comfortable. Whatever it was, she liked it very much.

“This is my bed, dear,” Aziraphale said, kissing up to Crawly’s eyelids and then back down to her mouth. “Humans do many things here. They sleep, they’re born, they die in beds. Amongst other things. I have...not had an occasion to use it other than a place to sit.” 

“Let’ssssssssssss break it in, angel,” Crawly said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Despite what they said the day before, they weren’t exactly professionals about it. That would imply a certain level of detachment and experience. Instead it was loud, and messy, and awkward. But they fit together like bricks hewn from the same stone. One day, when the pyramids of Egypt are built, that’s how they make the pieces fit together so well. The builders would carve a 2.5 ton block from a limestone or granite deposit. The brick that would be put into place beside it on the pyramid was cut from the same spot. So the chisel marks from either side would match up, fitting together better than any of our modern bricks.Why do you suppose the pyramids have stood so long? Hewn from the same stone, the bricks were designed for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some artistic liberties in this chapter because I was basing it off of stuff from the Bible and it doesn't really go into detail about weddings but OH WELL ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> (Follow me on tumblr, @elijah-beth! Thank you, I love y'all)


	2. Patience:  The Ability to Endure Difficult Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some Knights being bros, no court romance here, absolutely not.

**537 A.D.**

King Arthur was talking, but one Sir Aziraphale was paying exactly zero attention. Oh, there was a part of his brain that was listening, of course. The king was saying something about one of his nephews getting on his nerves. Or maybe it was his son? Aziraphale, however, was thinking about red hair and yellow eyes. Yellow eyes looking at him from under a black visor. Red hair he wasn’t able to see, but could still see the flame of when he shut his eyes. He had seen Cra-Crowley just a week ago, and the Demon had been filling his every waking moment ever since. And Aziraphale didn’t sleep. His thoughts were especially heavy with memories of that day so very long ago with Ezra and Shira’s family. 

_I wonder if she knew that there were flowers in her hair,_ Aziraphale thought, remembering seeing all the crushed petals the next morning.

“Sir Aziraphale!” King Arthur exclaimed, startling Aziraphale back to the present. 

Aziraphale jumped where he was sitting and looked around the Table. The king and all the other knights were staring at him expectantly.

“Er, yes? Your Majesty?”

“I asked you how your fight with the Black Knight went. You returned to us, so surely you defeated him?” Arthur asked.

“Oh! Yes, the Black Knight. That was an unfortunate stalemate, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale smiled apologetically.

“How does a sword fight end in a stalemate, eh?” Kay, Arthur’s foster sibling asked. 

“Yah, Aziraphale, you’re a Knight of the Table Round, for Peter’s sake!” Percival exclaimed.

“Maybe he was thinking about a girl!” Shouted Bors the Younger.

Aziraphale felt himself blush. _Badly_. When the Knights noticed how red he had turned, they all started howling and yelling.

“He _was_ thinking about a girl!” Screeched Lamorak, brother of Percival. 

“Must’ve been quite the lass to distract our man!” Bellowed Lancelot, reaching for more wine.

“Well I, the thing is, he wasn’t, er, you see,” Aziraphale stammered.

“You idiots, it obviously wasn’t a girl!” Galahad, son of Lancelot, piped in. Gaheris, one of Arthur’s nephews, nodded beside Galahad.

“You just have to look at Aziraphale to tell he’s not interested in _women_ ,” Bedivere said, elbowing Kay rather pointedly in their side.

“Now that’s not entirely-” Aziraphale began.

“Not a lass, then! A _lad_!” Cried Tor, brother of Percival and Lamorak.

“What’s his name, Aziraphale? Do tell us!” Said Tristan softly to Aziraphale’s left. Tristan was a bit of a romantic.

Aziraphale was rubbing his temples. He cared for his fellow Table Knights, he really did. But they could be like dogs with a bone.

“Who Aziraphale spends his off time with is none of our business,” Arthur began, “As Knights, of course.” _Oh dear,_ Aziraphale thought. “However, as his friends that is an entirely different matter. Aziraphale, tell us about your man!” 

“Arthur! I! It’s not like that! He’s not _mine_ !” _Oh fiddlesticks_.

“Oh, Aziraphale, he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, does he?” Agravain, brother of Gaheris said.

The knights, Arthur included, all quieted down, offering their condolences. They were all familiar with unrequited love. Of course they were, they’re KNIGHTS.

“Well, some of them…” Aziraphale murmured to himself. Unfortunately, for him at least, he did not murmur that very quietly, because the knights immediately resumed their shouting.

“Oh, shit, Aziraphale got some ass!” Yelled Gareth, before being scolded by his uncle Arthur.

_Almighty, if you’re listening, discorporate me this instant. I can’t handle these humans much longer!_

Gaheris stood and slammed his hands on the Table. “Aziraphale! If you’ve _lain_ with this gentleman, what is stopping you from admitting that you love him?”

_Love?_

“Don’t hit the table like that please.”

_I don’t love Crowley, he’s a Demon!_

“Oops, sorry uncle.”

_I shouldn’t love him._

“But answer his question, dear friend. Why can’t you tell him about your feelings?”

_Right?_

“Because we’re on opposite sides!” Aziraphale shouted.

_Whoops._

The Table went uncharacteristically quiet.

_It shouldn’t be possible. I’m an Angel, he’s a Demon, we’re...enemies...aren’t we?_

_Enemies don’t get married._

_Oh dear._

_And they definitely don’t make lo-_

“It’s the Black Knight!” Gawain shouted, breaking the silence.

“Stalemate, my ass!” Kay declared. “You two were probably just making out the whole time!”

Aziraphale’s face split into an uncomfortable grimace. “We most certainly didn’t! We only talked! We haven’t done anything of the sort since the wed- oops.”

“Wed...WEDDING?” Galahad yelled.

Aziraphale groaned. This was going very badly.

“You’re married to the Black Knight??” Percival asked, standing up. He turned to point at Arthur. “Did you know this when you sent him to fight?” 

“I knew nothing of the sort! Aziraphale, why didn’t you say something?”

“Well if you must know, I didn’t know who the Black Knight was until a week ago. We were married a long time ago, you see. That union is no more, I’m afraid.” _Why do I sound disappointed? It was just supposed to help us understand humanity more._

“So you went off to that dreary old field to fight one of our enemies, only to discover that it was your ex? That’s awful, no wonder you’re so distracted!” Said Lancelot.

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad as all that. I had rather missed him, to be honest.” 

“You still love him,” Gareth stated, matter-of-fact.

_I’m a being of love, of course I love Crowley. But do I love him the way they are assuming?_ Aziraphale’s thoughts turned to yellow eyes and hissing. He thought of the strange, inhuman way Crowley moved, and how his heart always softened for children. He thought about how the first thing that went through his mind when Crowley lifted his visor was the night of their wedding. How it felt to touch her hair and kiss her lips and listening to her teaching the kids how to hiss. 

Aziraphale gulped. _I’m going to be in so much trouble._

“Yes, Gareth, dear boy. I...I do love him…” When Aziraphale says this, he swears he hears a small voice in the back of his head. It’s like a tiny whisper at the edge of his consciousness. 

_~~I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.~~ _

And then the feeling is gone, replaced by the sound of several Knights whispering conspiratorially. 

Gaheris, Gareth, Gawain, and Agravain were huddled over the empty chair where their brother Mordred used to sit. Gaheris pulled Galahad into the huddle, and the five of them continued whispering and gesturing. Then they all sat down.

“We have decided to help you, Aziraphale,” Gawain announced.

“H-how are you intending on doing that?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly.

“We’re going to get you two back together,” Agravain answered, looking very serious.

“That’s hardly necessary!” Aziraphale all but squeaked. _This is going way to fast._

“Don’t worry, we know you don’t like talking about your feelings very much,” Galahad smirked, looking very much like his father, the cad.

Gareth coughed. “At all!”

Aziraphale thumped his head down on the Table.

“Aziraphale, please listen to our plan,” Gaheris begged. 

“Fine,” Aziraphale sighed.

“We shall throw a tournament! And invite the greatest knights from all over the Isles!” Exclaimed Gawain, already looking very proud of himself.

“And how will that help, eh?” Kay asked.

“Well, if the Black Knight and Aziraphale didn’t end up fighting last week, then they _both_ must still have feelings, even if their marriage is dissolved,” said Agravain.

“And if that’s the case, then they won’t want to fight each other in a tournament either,” continued Galahad.

“We’ll set up the bracket so that Aziraphale and the Black Knight have to face each other,” Gareth said.

“They’ll have to fight each other, honor dictates it!” Bedivere interrupted.

“Not if they get married before the tournament! The officials would be forced to rearrange the brackets!” Shouted Gaheris excitedly.

“This is ridicu-” began Arthur, before being interrupted by Kay jumping up.

“Oh, come on, brother! We _have_ to help Aziraphale, we just have to!” They cried, gripping Bedivere’s hand in theirs like a lifeline.

Arthur looked at his sibling, then at Bedivere, then at his nephews, then finally at Aziraphale. He sighed, defeated. “Oh, alright. Hell, I’ll marry the two of you myself if I have to. But how are we going to know for sure that the Black Knight will come?”

“Oh, Crowley is a bit proud,” Aziraphale said.

“There’s the name, Tristan!” Tor said, tapping the Table to get Tristan’s attention. 

“Ahem!” Gawain cleared his throat. “In order to guarantee that the Black Knight, Crowley, will participate, we will say that in addition to the usual tournament winnings, the winner will also be able to spend the evening with any member of the Table they so wish!”

Arthur and Aziraphale both started to interrupt, but they were pre-interrupted by Agravain.

“Crowley knows that Aziraphale is a Knight of the Round Table, and if he still loves you the way you still love him, then he will be sure to come! And if you two get married so you can avoid fighting each other in the tourney, then it doesn’t matter who wins, because you’ll be married again!”

_This hinges on Crowley loving me, which I highly doubt. But humoring these darling boys won’t hurt anyone._

“Oh, alright then,” Aziraphale said. The young Knights all converged on Aziraphale with cries of “this is going to be great!” And “you won’t regret this!” And “this is so romantic!”

Aziraphale needed a drink. Maybe several.

———————————————————————————————————————

The next day, notices went out to all corners of Europe. Soon Camelot, already a bustling city, was filled to bursting with knights and squires and ladies and ladies-in-waiting. Food vendors were filling the streets, and the snorting and grunting of horses had become thunderous. 

Aziraphale was strolling amongst the chaos, eating fried dough. If you asked him, he’d tell you he was people watching, fascinated by all the different colored armor and the different flag designs. But in reality, he was focused on one color armor. Every time he saw someone wearing black, his attention snapped to them. If he saw a squire carrying a set of black armor, he followed them with his awareness until he saw the knight they went with. Aziraphale was getting more and more frustrated and impatient as the day went on. _This was a ridiculous idea. There’s no way this is going to work. Crowley won’t come, he’s too busy fomenting, I’m sure of it._

“What do you _mean_ I have to fight Ssir Azssiraphale? Can’t you change it?” A familiar voice echoed through the square from the registration table. Aziraphale spun to look, his eyes landing on a knight in full black armor. The knight was tall and skinny and had their visor down. But Aziraphale would recognize that voice and swagger anywhere.

He tossed aside his dough and marched over to Crowley, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the table. Crowley hissed and fought for a second, but when he saw that it was Aziraphale, he changed from hissing to sputtering. 

“Wh, what are you doing? Where are we guh. Where are we going?” Crowley stuttered, his voice muffled by his helmet. 

Aziraphale ignored him, marching into Aziraphale’s official tournament tent. Once inside and safe, Crowley pulled his helmet off and threw it aside. His hair was long and wrapped around his head in a tight braid. “What’s this all about, angel?” 

“You came! You actually came, why?” Aziraphale demanded.

Crowley looked around the tent, taking in his surroundings. “I’m a knight, this is a knight tournament, so I came. Did you see the brackets? We have to fight each other.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, that, well, the Table Knights may have found out that we know each other, and some of Arthur’s nephews have put together this ridiculous plot to prevent us from having to fight each other ever again.”

Crowley squinted. “How?”

“Ah, they uh. Well. Uh.” _Just spit it out!_ “Marriage,” he whispered. 

Crowley went completely still and silent, staring at Aziraphale. “Why?” He seemed to choke out.

Aziraphale waved his hand. “You know how human knights can be. It’s all ‘courtly love’ this and ‘forbidden romance’ that. They seem to have gotten it in their heads that we’re some sort of star crossed lovers.” 

Crowley stared in disbelief at Aziraphale, then broke out laughing. 

Aziraphale frowned.

“Oh, angel! Angel that’sss great! We have to! Pffft we have to do this!” Crowley said between laughs.

“Right. Uh, let’s go get married, then, shall we?”

Crowley slowly stopped laughing, pulling himself together. He took a deep breath, then locked eyes with Aziraphale. “Only if you ask me properly, angel.”

For a moment, Aziraphale was angry, thought Crowley was making fun of him. But then he saw the intense look in Crowley’s eyes. He took a deep breath, then removed his gauntlets. He walked over to Crowley and pulled his gauntlets off. He threw them both on the floor. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands in his own, and then _knelt_ in front of the Demon.

“Sir Crowley, the Black Knight, will you marry me, Sir Aziraphale of the Round Table?”

Crowley licked his lips, his eyes blazing like fire. For a second he was very quiet, and looked like he might change his mind. But then his face split into a wicked grin, and he hissed. “Yessssss, I will.” 

Unable to help himself, Aziraphale surged up and grabbed Crowley’s face, kissing him hard before stepping away with an awkward cough. “Er sorry about that. These human bodies can really get away from us, huh?”

Crowley was pink. He nodded very quickly. “All sssorts of insstinctss and automatic ressponssesss in thesse fleshy thingssss mhm.”

Forty minutes later they were inside the castle, talking with Arthur. Crowley was awkwardly shuffling his feet. As the Black Knight, he had caused quite a bit of trouble for King Arthur, which is why Aziraphale had been sent to fight him to begin with.

The other Table Knights were surrounding them, all talking at once, asking Crowley about himself and his relationship with Aziraphale. None of them seemed bothered by his eyes. Aziraphale knew that this was because many of them had seen weirder. Lancelot and Bors were both raised by the Lady of the Lake, for instance. Percival once had an encounter with garden gnomes. Yellow snake eyes were nothing to them. 

The Knights were dressed in their finest furs and shiniest armors. Arthur was even wearing his crown. It was just the sixteen of them present. One king, thirteen Knights, one Angel, and one Demon. 

Arthur shushed all the Knights, then placed a large Bible on the lecture in front of him. Aziraphale offered a silent prayer of thanks that they were in the Table room, not a church.

Aziraphale placed his right hand on the cover of the Bible, and Crowley placed his hand on top of Aziraphale’s. They had talked about this on their way here, Aziraphale hoping that he’d be able to dilute some of the Holy Power through himself so that Crowley wouldn’t get burnt. As it was, Crowley’s usually cold hand felt warm on top of Aziraphale’s.

Arthur began to speak, his strong voice carrying easily in the room. “In peace we beseech Thee, O Lord. For heavenly peace, we beseech Thee, O Lord. For the peace of the entire world, we beseech Thee, O Lord. For this holy place, we beseech Thee, O Lord. That these thy servants, Aziraphale and Crowley, be sanctified with thy spiritual benediction, we beseech Thee, O Lord. That their love abide without offense or scandal all the days of their lives, we beseech Thee, O Lord. That they be granted all things needed for salvation and godly enjoyment of life everlasting, we beseech Thee, O Lord. That the Lord God grant unto them unashamed faithfulness and sincere love, we beseech Thee, O Lord.... Have mercy on us, O God. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale saw Crowley scratch at the back of his neck like he had a sunburn.

“Forasmuch as Thou, O Lord and Ruler, art merciful and loving, who didst establish humankind after thine image and likeness, who didst deem it meet that thy holy apostles Philip and Bartholomew be united, bound one unto the other not by nature but by faith and the spirit. As Thou didst find thy holy martyrs Serge and Bacchus worthy to be united together, bless also these thy servants, Aziraphale and Crowley, joined together not by the bond of nature but by faith and in the mode of the spirit, granting unto them peace and love and oneness of mind. Cleanse from their hearts every stain and impurity and vouchsafe unto them to love one other without hatred and without scandal all the days of their lives, with the aid of the Mother of God and all thy saints, forasmuch as all glory is thine.”

Aziraphale watched a very small patch of red sneak up Crowley’s neck. But the Demon did not flinch. 

And then came the next part. Aziraphale was dreading this, but Crowley insisted that he could do it.

They removed their hands from the Bible. Aziraphale bent at the waist and kissed the cover, hoping that this wouldn’t hurt Crowley too much.

Crowley then bent down and brushed his lips softly on the Bible, and when he straightened, his lips were chapped and cracked. Aziraphale felt his heart wrench. _I shouldn’t have let this happen. He’s hurting and it's all my fault._

Arthur kissed each of them chastely on the mouth, before gesturing for them to continue. Aziraphale took Crowley’s face very gently in his hands before kissing him sweetly, pushing as much healing energy into the Demon as he could, taking care of his burns. Crowley sighed in relief. When they pulled apart, Aziraphale swept his eyes over Crowley, making sure he didn’t miss anything. Crowley was looking back at him with something very soft in his eyes.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and started accepting the congratulations from the Knights. Crowley was looking back and forth between Lancelot and Arthur, making a peculiar face. Aziraphale told himself to ask about it later. 

They had dinner to celebrate. It was small in comparison to many of the feasts that Arthur often hosted, but it was just right for the occasion. Aziraphale ate more than anyone, out of enjoyment from eating, and nerves. Even Crowley ate a bit. The kitchen staff were bewildered that no matter how much the group drank, at no point did they run out of wine. They thought it quite miraculous. 

Aziraphale and Crowley were both rather drunk by the time they were shooed off to Aziraphale’s quarters by Arthur, and they had to lean on each other to keep from falling over as they walked. 

“You, oof, you know, Lanssssse. Ugh,” Crowley was trying to say as they walked. “He’sssssss Arthur’sssssss buddy? Lanssssel. Ngk. Lanssselot.”

Aziraphale’s head was swimming, but he managed to force out “yah.” He stopped in front of a door.

“Dooo human friendsssss often boink their friendsss wivessss?” Crowley hissed, leaning against the wall while Aziraphale unlocked and opened the door.

“What in _heaven's_ name ‘re you talking about, m’ dear boy?” Aziraphale peeled Crowley off the wall and pulled him into the Angel’s chambers. 

Crowley sat down hard on a chair and started taking his armor off, too drunk to focus enough to miracle them off. “Lanssselot and Gwe- Gwand- Jen, _fuck_ , the Queen, are havin’ ‘n affair.”

Aziraphale froze. Er, tried to. He was still very wobbly. “How, how, how do you know this?” 

Crowley looked up from removing his leg pieces. “‘M a demon, angel, I can sssssenssssse that ssssort of thing. One of, uh, one of Arthur’sssss nephewwssss, ugh. Aggravate? He knowsssss, or ssssusssssspectssssss.”

“Agravain,” Aziraphale corrected.

“Yah, him. Good kid. Meansss well.” Crowley got the last piece of his armor off, and climbed into the bed wearing just a long shirt and leggings. He started fiddling with his hair, trying to get it out of its braid, but he was a bit too sloshed and kept fumbling.

Without thinking too hard about it, Aziraphale vanished his armor. He wasn’t sure where it ended up, being unable to aim at the moment. Also wearing a long shirt and leggings, he sat on the bed next to Crowley and started helping him with his hair. He tossed the various pins onto the floor, the only thought in his mind was getting his hands in those tresses. When he got the last pin out, Aziraphale started unbraiding Crowley’s hair. Once the braid was gone, Aziraphale plunged his hands in, loosening the curls and rubbing Crowley’s scalp. 

Crowley groaned and pushed his head against Aziraphale’s hands. Aziraphale lifted a curl and held it to his nose, inhaling the scent. They were both quickly sobering without realizing it.

“Crowley, my dear, did you know that the last time we did this, you had flowers in your hair?” Aziraphale asked, massaging Crowley’s scalp.

“Mmmmmm, no, I didn’t know that, angel. How did I look with ‘em?” Crowley asked, turning to fix Aziraphale with his golden stare.

Aziraphale drank in the sight of Crowley looking so open and vulnerable, then pressed their foreheads together, shutting his eyes. “You were the most beautiful thing, dear boy. Absolutely lovely.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley muttered. Aziraphale didn’t have to look to know that Crowley was blushing.

Aziraphale pulled away. “Alright then, let’s consummate this union so we don’t have to fight each other tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’d hate to have beat you in front of all your new human friendsss.”

“My _dear_ boy, I was _hand chosen_ by the Almighty to guard the Garden.” 

“Before you gave your sssword away,” Crowley was inching closer, his face full of mischief and affection. 

“I don’t need a flaming sword to put you in your place, fiend,” Aziraphale was also inching closer, his power bubbling just under the surface of his skin. 

Crowley bit his lip, then closed the distance to kiss Aziraphale. The Angel melted under the heat of the kiss.

_Even if he doesn’t love me, at least we have this. It’s...better than nothing at all, I suppose._

Aziraphale tangled his hands in Crowley’s hair, unable to believe how soft it was. He pulled on it, curious to see what would happen.

Crowley _moaned_ , opening his mouth.

Aziraphale used the opportunity to slip his tongue past Crowley’s lips. Crowley’s tongue met it, and Aziraphale was surprised to feel that it wasn’t quite human this time. It was long and _forked_. They quickly started tearing at each other’s clothes, desperate to get as close as possible. 

———————————————————————————————————————

Neither of them needed to sleep, but Crowley enjoyed it, so did it a lot. Aziraphale had spent the night holding Crowley while he slept, and Aziraphale had found that there was nothing he enjoyed as much as seeing Crowley at peace. The Demon, being cold blooded, had all but wrapped himself around the Angel in order to absorb his heat. Aziraphale just held him tight and miracled another blanket over them. 

When the sun came up, Aziraphale woke Crowley up. Like a cat, he stretched his whole body and yawned before opening his eyes. He looked at Aziraphale’s arms still around him, and their clothes in a rumpled pile on the floor. He wriggled around until he was chest-to-chest with Aziraphale, and very softly kissed the base of his throat, making Aziraphale shiver.

“Were you awake all night, angel?” Crowley asked, yawning.

“Yes. I don’t really sleep, you see.” Aziraphale nuzzled his nose into Crowley’s hair. “We need to get up, my dear boy. We have to go speak with the tournament officials so we can get the brackets moved.”

“Mph,” Crowley said, not moving.

“Oh come on, you lazy serpent,” Aziraphale admonished, getting out of bed. Crowley’s eyes followed him as he did so, looking hungry and sinful.

“I’m not lazy, angel, I’m _exhausted._ You really wore me out last night,” Crowley purred.

Aziraphale was certain that his entire body turned bright red, and he hurriedly got dressed while Crowley watched. If the Angel had been paying attention, he would’ve seen Crowley’s eyes looking at him softly, with a small secret smile on his lips. But Aziraphale wasn’t paying attention, so he didn’t see those things. 

Crowley watched Aziraphale for a second more, then hopped out of bed and miracled his clothes on, followed by his armor. Aziraphale had just finished putting his armor on, and the two of them left. 

“Remember, dear, we must act like besotted newlyweds or else our little scheme here won’t work,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Of course, no problem, angel.” Crowley tilted his head and kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. 

The fellow at the registration table was perfectly amenable to the match up change once Aziraphale and Crowley explained the situation. He even offered them a warm congratulations on their nuptials. Pleased with themselves, they went to join the Knights and the other guests of honor in the King’s Pavilion. They sat down next to Kay and Bedivere, who were holding hands and looking smug. Crowley nudged Aziraphale with his shoulder, then nodded towards Agravain. Aziraphale subtly looked, and sure enough, Agravain was scowling at Lancelot, who was making extremely obvious heart eyes at Queen Guinevere, who was laughing with Arthur.

Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, raising his eyebrows in a “we’ll I’ll be damned, you were right” sort of look. 

Crowley looked back at him, his eyes glowing in the shadows of his visor as if to say “I’m right a lot, stop being so surprised about it.”

King Arthur gave a rousing speech about camaraderie and loyalty and such before the games started. Once it started, the energy in the crowd became infectious. A lot of the jousts and fights, while dangerous, were done in good spirits, the participants congratulating each other on their wins or a particularly impressive move and the like. Whenever it was one of the Knights turn to fight, the crowd would _roar_ in excitement. Sometimes they won, and sometimes they lost, but all had a good time. 

Aziraphale’s first fight was against a knight in shiny green armor. While Aziraphale was in the field getting ready, Crowley leant over the fence to talk to him.

“I have a token for you, angel,” he whispered.

Grinning, Aziraphale approached the fence, just to have Crowley grab him by the pauldrons, lift both of their visors, and plant a wet, sloppy kiss on Aziraphale’s mouth, eliciting riotous cheers and wolf whistles from the crowd. An especially proud bit of screaming came from the King’s Pavilion. 

Crowley pulled away and Aziraphale followed to prolong the kiss for a second longer, making Crowley laugh. “Angel, everyone is staring. Win this match and you can kiss me as much as you like, we’re married, after all.” Aziraphale pushed Crowley back over the side of the fence in an attempt to hide his blush, then pulled his sword to go square off with his opponent.

I don’t think I really need to tell you who won, but I will tell you who got an obscene amount of kisses afterwards over some lunch. It was Aziraphale. 

Crowley’s match came, and Aziraphale gave him his handkerchief. Crowley tucked it into his armor above his heart. Crowley’s fight against a Red Knight was over quickly, giving him more than enough time to drop his sword and vault over the fence and into Aziraphale’s arms. They both collapsed to the ground laughing. 

_Oh, we are very good at this acting thing._ Aziraphale thought, trying to get up from under Crowley in his armor without betraying just how strong the two of them were. 

Indeed, the crowd was just eating up the newlyweds’ antics, and if the two of them were having way too much fun with their scheme, well that was just because of the intensity of the day, surely.

Crowley won his second match, sending him to the semi-finals.

In his second match, Aziraphale lost, which was fine by him. It meant he could get out of his armor and put on something more appropriate for simply observing. He went to his tent and miracled up a new outfit: A white, long sleeved under tunic, with an off white sleeveless tunic. The tunic stopped mid thigh, and he wore loose fitting trousers in the same off white color as his outer tunic. He had on a belt, and a nice pair of leather shoes, and a fur cloak completed the look. Aziraphale looked at himself in a mirror, thought he looked pretty good, and briefly wondered if Crowley would like his outfit before pushing it from his mind.

He pinned a badge to the front of his tunic, denoting that he was a Knight of the Round Table, and left his tent to wander around the shops to get an idea for more sappy romantic things to give Crowley during the rest of the tournament. He was looking at some roses when a large man appeared at his side.

“You’re a member of the Round Table, yes?” The large man asked, gesturing to Aziraphale’s pin. 

“Oh, yes! I am Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round! How may I help you?”

The man grinned a large, toothy grin that sent a chill down Aziraphale’s spine.

“Oh, I’m just inspecting my prize, you see. I intend on winning and I want to make sure I pick just the _best_ Knight to spend my evening with.” The man’s eyes raked down Aziraphale’s body in an unmistakable manner. 

“ _Excuse_ me, sir, but I am a Knight, hand chosen by the King to serve at his side, and you _will not_ speak to me that way!” Aziraphale declared, puffing up his chest.

The man smirked again. “And I am Sir Ceadda Cúailnge, and I intend on winning this tournament,” and here Ceadda Cúailnge got very close, close enough to breath his hot, smelly breath all over the Angel’s face, “ _Aziraphale_.”

The way Ceadda said his name sent waves of fear throughout Aziraphale. That fear turned to anger, and that anger was about to turn into something else when a black blur moved in between him and Ceadda.

“Oi, you fucking wanker, what do you think you’re doing?” It was Crowley.

Ceadda blinked, and then threw his head back and laughed. “I’m admiring your friend’s goods, Black Knight, no need to get involved here.”

Crowley _growled_ , and Aziraphale could feel the waves of fury rolling off his Demon.

“Azsssiraphale issss _not_ my _friend_ !” Crowley spat, “He’sssss my husssssband, and unlessssssss you want a free one way ticket Down Stairssssss, I’d ssssssuggesssssst _fucking off_.”

A lot of the things in their bodies exist more out of decoration than any actual need, but Aziraphale’s heart was pounding nonetheless. 

Ceadda looked between Crowley and Aziraphale, then looked back at the brackets behind him. He laughed again. “We’ll see how long that lasts, pal!” And then he stomped off, laughing coldly the whole time.

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, then at the board. 

Crowley and Ceadda Cúailnge were both in the semi-finals, and if they won their matches, they’d fight each other in the finals.

“Crowley, you have to beat him,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Azsssiraphale,” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, “Angel, I’m going to make that human wisssh he’d never been born.” 

Unable to let go of each other, they walked back to the Pavilion hand-in-hand. They sat down and started talking about what happened, Aziraphale explaining what had gone on before Crowley got there.

“Pah, a Cúailnge! Never did like those Cooleysss. Why do you think I put it into Medb’s head that she needed Donn Cúailnge?”

“I didn’t know you were involved in the Cattle Raid, dear. But I’m assuming you were told to?”

Crowley snorted. “No, I just hate cows! Those Cooleys and their damn cows. Do you know what cows do to snakes, angel? They stomp on them!”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “You mean to tell me that you started a war because you have some sort of personal vendetta against cows?”

“Abssolutely!”

“Good Lord,” Aziraphale muttered.

The qualifiers for the semi-finals were formally introduced. The Black Knight versus the Blue Knight in the first match, and Ceadda Cúailnge, a Grey Knight, against the Purple Knight.

When Crowley went down to the field, Aziraphale followed. He placed both hands on either side of Crowley’s helmet, and kissed the crown. It glowed like someone shined a light on it for a brief second.

“For good luck, dear,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Uh. Right,” Crowley murmured rather dumbly.

Aziraphale returned to his seat, where Agravain had taken Crowley’s spot. _Oh, please don’t want to talk about the Queen’s affair. Please don’t want to talk abo-_

“Aziraphale, can you keep a secret?”

_Drat._

“Of course, dear boy. Whatever is troubling you?”

Agravain looked around, then whispered, “I think Lancelot and Queen Guinevere are having an affair.”

“Oh, goodness. Why do you think that?” Aziraphale said, playing dumb and watching Crowley expertly parry an attack from the Blue Knight. 

“They’re always dancing at balls, and making these, _eyes_ at each other. And the other day, I saw them _kissing_ in a _stairwell_ ,” Agravain said, starting to get upset. 

“Maybe you should confront them about it,” Aziraphale said, his eyes still on Crowley. “You care for them both, and you care about Arthur, so I think you should talk to them about it.”

Agravain thought for a second. “Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Aziraphale, you give the best advice.” 

Aziraphale leapt up to cheer when Crowley defeated the Blue Knight. “Yes, of course, happy to help, just talk to them before Ar- oh you’ve gone already. Oh well.”

Crowley rejoined Aziraphale on the bench, removed his gauntlet, and gripped Aziraphale’s hand again, looking very thoughtful.

“What are you thinking about, dear?”

“What if we uh, encouraged Cúailnge to lose? We could scare him with our true forms, or we could sever his hamstrings, or, oh! We could bribe him!”

“Crowley! We are undercover! We can’t do any of those things! No, you’ll just have to beat him if he wins his match, dear.” Aziraphale would absolutely never admit it out loud, or even admit it in his thoughts, but the idea of Crowley fighting a Villain in single combat for _his honor_ was giving him goosebumps.

Ceadda Cúailnge did end up winning his match against the Purple Knight. Arthur announced the finalists, Crowley and Cúailnge, and then allowed a break for lunch. This was to let the finalists rest up before the fight, not like Crowley actually needed it. 

Aziraphale needed lunch, though. Emotionally, at least. He ended up eating several plates of pork and vegetables and several bowls of soup and three glasses of wine and a tankard of beer and four slices of pie. Crowley had to help him back to the Pavilion when the trumpets sounded to let everyone know that lunch was over. Aziraphale took a second to quickly digest some of the food he had stress eaten so he would feel less uncomfortable. 

Cúailnge was already on the field, stretching and laughing grotesquely. Aziraphale looked over the barrier, looking between Crowley and Cúailnge. The Grey Knight was much, much bigger than Crowley. But Crowley was faster, and also a Demon.

Crowley came over to speak to Aziraphale before the final match started, lifting his visor to look at him. Aziraphale reached into his tunic and pulled out a blood red rose. He tucked it into one of the plates of Crowley’s breastplate, so it stuck out like a lapel decoration. Then Aziraphale took Crowley’s face and kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and then his lips.

“Kick his ass, dear.”

“Ohhhhh, angel I’m gonna find you the nicest cake I can for you tonight,” said Crowley before winking and lowering his visor again. 

Even in armor, Crowley’s saunter was very obvious as he swaggered into the fighting area. Aziraphale stayed at the barrier, unable to turn away to walk back to his bench. He started chewing his bottom lip.

Crowley lifted his sword as he fell into his stance. Cúailnge did the same, his massive broadsword reflecting the sunlight.

King Arthur lifted his hand, and the crowd went silent. The tension was palpable in the stands. Then Arthur threw his hand down and the crowd went wild at the first clash of the swords.

Crowley was, indeed, much faster than Cúailnge, but Cúailnge had an immense amount of raw strength. Crowley, listening for once to Aziraphale, was forced to use actual swordplay instead of any demonic miracles or occult strength. Aziraphale couldn’t tear his eyes away. Every clash of their swords and every grunt of exertion was hypnotising. Crowley moved just like he did as a snake, fast and lithe and sinuous. It was awfully like watching a dance, and Aziraphale couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping in awe.

There was some kind of commotion coming from behind him, and Aziraphale turned to look, distracted for a moment. Agravain was standing up in front of Arthur, Guinevere, and Lancelot, gesturing very intensely. _Oh dear, is he doing that right now?_ Was the thought Aziraphale had before a series of horrible sounds assaulted his ears from the field.

The first was a slice and crunch.

The second was a pained scream.

The third was a wet thud.

Aziraphale turned back around to look at the knights and-

“NO!” He screamed.

Cúailnge was standing tall, his sword held high and covered in blood. He looked confident and smug through his half helmet. Crowley was standing hunched over, his hand on his shoulder, looking down at his arm. Which was on the ground. Unattached from his body. Aziraphale felt his body moving forward as if to jump over the barrier, but felt two sets of human arms grabbing him.

“You can’t go out there, Aziraphale!” Shouted Percival.

“He’ll be disqualified if you interfere!” Shouted Galahad.

Aziraphale could barely hear them. _Crowley, Crowley no, I have to help._ He couldn't magic his arm back on right now in front of all these humans, but he could still help a little. He went still in Percival and Galahad’s arms, and sent a ribbon of magic towards Crowley, just enough to stop the bleeding and numb some of the pain. Crowley looked up at Aziraphale’s panic stricken face, and gave him a thumbs up.

Cúailnge was whispering something to Crowley, his eyes flickering up at Aziraphale. He made a lewd face and Aziraphale saw his demon stiffen for a brief second. Then Crowley flicked the blood off his hand, and leaned down to grab the sword his severed arm still had. Then he removed his helmet, tossing it to the ground and stretching his neck. When he opened his eyes, his yellow slitted pupils locked onto Cúailnge. He slid back into an offensive stance, his offhand holding his sword high. Aziraphale could swear he saw Crowley’s eyes glowing, or steaming, but that might’ve been a trick of the light. But the yellow took up the whole of his eyes, not a single bit of white to be seen. Aziraphale slipped his eyes into a different plane of existence, and sure enough, Crowley’s black wings were raised and arched, much like a swan preparing to attack. Aziraphale had once seen a swan attack and kill a human that had disturbed the swans nest with a single strike of its wings.

“You...will...not...win...thissssss,” Crowley panted.

Cúailnge wasn’t looking as confident now. In fact, he was looking _terrified_. “Wh-what are you?” 

“A deeemon,” Crowley seemed to purr, so quiet that only Cúailnge and Aziraphale could hear. Cúailnge backed away. “I’m a demon and a knight and a ssssssnake. But mossssssst importantly, I’m hissssssss hussssssssband!” 

Aziraphale’s heart squeezed almost painfully. He watched as Crowley rushed Cúailnge, kicking out his legs and bringing the butt of his sword down hard on his head.

Cúailnge passed out. Crowley won.

Amidst the cheers, Aziraphale pulled away from Percival and Galahad and leapt over the barrier, running full speed to Crowley, who all but collapsed in Aziraphale’s arms. 

“There, there, my dear, I’ve got you, you’re safe now.”

"Don't worry, angel, 'tis but a scratch," Crowley mumbled.

"A scratch, dear?! You're arm's off!" Aziraphale took Crowley’s arm and looped it over his shoulder, half supporting and half dragging him to the exit.

He grabbed the lost arm on his way.

Arthur was declaring Crowley the winner, going on about his bravery and courage and whatnot. Crowley let go of Aziraphale to wave his good arm in the air to get the king’s attention. Aziraphale had to wrap his arm around Crowley’s waist to keep him from falling.

“Excuse me, your Kinglyship, thanks so much for the kind words, can I claim this particular knight as my prize, please? I’m very tired.”

Arthur laughed, and waved them off. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, though. “Best see a doctor, Black Knight, before any infection seeps in. Aziraphale, I expect to see you tomorrow at the table, we have to discuss a development with Mordred.”

Aziraphale and Crowley awkwardly bowed, then walked off the field. Once they were far enough away that they couldn't be seen, Aziraphale miracled away Crowley’s armor and lifted him into his arms, carrying him into the castle like a bride. Crowley tucked his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale got them back to his chambers, locking the door once they were inside. 

He sat on the bed, arranging Crowley on his lap so that he could use both hands to hold his shoulder and arm. 

“Alright, my dear, this might smart a bit,” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s hair.

“That’ssss fine, angel, jusssst fix it, pleasse,” Crowley groaned.

Aziraphale kissed the top of Crowley’s head, then shoved the arm back onto the shoulder, flooding it with healing energy. Crowley flinched and his nails dug into Aziraphale’s hip, where his hand had been resting. Aziraphale watched the bone, muscle, and skin knitting back together. Crowley turned his face to bury it in Aziraphale’s chest, trying to muffle his strained breaths. Once the arm was attached enough that Aziraphale didn’t need to hold it, he let go with one of his hands and placed it on the back of Crowley’s neck, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“That’s right dear, I’ve got you. It’s almost done, I promise.”

Crowley was whimpering “angel, angel, Aziraphale, my angel, guhhhhh, hurts, sssssssssssss,”

Aziraphale told himself that Crowley was just in pain and speaking nonsense, and to not let the “my angel” impact him to much.

Finally, with a _pop_ the arm was fully attached and working. Crowley looked up, flexed his hand and fingers, and then wrapped both working arms around Aziraphale’s neck. “I thought he had me, angel. I thought he wasss going to win. He told me...awful thingsssss...that he wasssss going to do...I ssssaw your facssssse, and felt you ssssstop my bleeding...I couldn’t let him win…” 

Aziraphale went shock still. Crowley didn’t usually talk like this. So open and honest about his fears. He wasn’t even sure if Crowley knew he was saying it out loud. But he held him close and rubbed his back until he relaxed. Then he cleared his throat, and Crowley looked up at him.

“I do believe you were saying something about cake?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Basssstard, I did, didn’t I?”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure where Crowley got it, but it really was a good cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ceadda is an Ye Olde English equivalent of the name "Chad"
> 
> The ceremony that Azirphale and Crowley go through in this chapter is called “adelphopoiesis” and info about it, and the vows can be found here: https://www2.kenyon.edu/projects/margin/rites.htm


	3. Wrath: An Increased Stage of Hostile Response to Injury or Injustice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time period, every country, men will be like That™️

**1000**

Crowley kicked in the door to Aziraphale’s house. “AZIRAPHALE I WANT TO TALK ABOUT GENDER!” They shouted.

Aziraphale sighed and stood up from where he had been reading. “I’ll go make us some tea, you sit down dear boy.”

“That’sssss the thing, angel, I’m NOT A MAN!!” Crowley started to pace around the room. “And I’m not a woman either! At leasssssst not right now.” 

Aziraphale returned and gave a cup of tea to Crowley. “Alright, start at the beginning, dear one, what has you so upset, exactly?” He sat back down, patting the cushion next to him.

Crowley sat down slowly on the couch next to Aziraphale, sipping a bit at the tea. “Thisssss time period hassss me upssset, angel! I can’t take three ssssstepsss without some human man propositioning me!” They watched Aziraphale look at their clothes, and then look at his own clothes.

Crowley was wearing a grey kirtle (like a slip you’d wear under an itchy dress), a black mantle (a dress), and a black head rail (a hat, basically. Some fabric wrapped around the head with the hair tucked in, and fabric coming down around the head like a curtain). They had a pair of dark glasses perched on their nose. Aziraphale was wearing a white under tunic, and a tan over tunic, both made of linen and very fine quality. He had a fabric belt with little embroidered wing motifs on it, and loose trousers. Both of them wore these little black heeled numbers for shoes. Aziraphale also had a little cape.

“Ah, well, have you thought perhaps of dressing more masculinely?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley glared at Aziraphale, before angrily draining their tea and shoving it into the Angel’s hands. “No! Of coursssssse not!” They jumped back up to start angrily pacing again.

“I don’t _want_ to dresssssss like a man, Azssssiraphale! I like how thessssse clothessss look!” They were pacing quite quickly now, their feet thumping loudly on the floor. “If I wasss feeling more like a man, it wouldn’t really be a problem! But I don’t! I don’t feel like a woman, either! I’m jussssst…” they paused, both in pacing and speaking.

“You feel what, dear?”

“I...I feel like...ngk. My gender feels like...blahrg!”

Aziraphale seemed to think for a moment. “Yes, I think I understand.”

“Wh-what? You do?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. I don’t really have a relationship with gender the way that you do. I just sort of _am_.” Aziraphale made a weird face, one that Crowley understood very intimately.

It was the “I don’t have the words to describe my gender” face.

Crowley and Aziraphale spent a few minutes staring at each other without speaking. Some of Crowley’s annoyance and anger had evaporated during this branch of conversation, and now they didn’t know what to say.

“My gender is snake,” they finally said.

Aziraphale _spat_ he started laughing so hard. He laughed so hard his face turned red and he almost fell over the side of his couch. “My...hhhhh…my dear individual, that was so good!”

Crowley scowled. “If you call me ‘dear individual’ again I _will_ discorporate you, and then you’ll have to explain to Heaven why you need a new body.”

Aziraphale just kept wheezing. “I’m...I’m sorry dear...oh God Almighty.” The Angel eventually got the hiccups, which Crowley decided was a suitable punishment.

Aziraphale took in a huge lungful of breath, held it, and gestured to Crowley to continue with what they had to say.

“Alright, so we’ve established that I’m uh...snake...but I like wearing women’s clothes. So everyone thinks I’m a woman, and I keep getting harassed by men!” Aziraphale nodded encouragingly, his face starting to turn red again.

“It’s always ‘ohh goodmornin’ lass! Are you unmarried? Can I speak to your father?’ Which is, frankly, ridiculous. I don’t have a father! Or its “hey gorgeous, wanna come back to my place?’ No! I don’t!” Aziraphale let out the breath he was holding, hiccups gone.

“Before I came here, someone grabbed my assssssss!” Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale was on his feet in a second. “Who? Where? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!” And Aziraphale started marching to the door before Crowley grabbed him.

“Angel, what are you going to do? Hm? Enact some righteous vengeance? On the behalf of a _Demon_?” 

Aziraphale turned and fixed Crowley with a set of very intense blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you are, Crowley. You shouldn’t be treated like that. Now, show me where this man is. _Now_ , if you’d please.”

Crowley doesn’t blink a lot, but they blinked several times just then. Aziraphale had always struck them as a bit of a softy, but this moment right now, reminded Crowley that Aziraphale had been a warrior once. “Yeah, alright, ssure.”

Crowley continued talking as they lead Aziraphale through the village. “It doesn’t matter what I tell any of them. I can say ‘no thank you’ or ‘I’m not interested’ or ‘I only like women’ but nothing stops them. If anything it encourages them somehow. Like I’m a fox they’re chasing. It’sss grossssss, angel.”

“Hmm, _quite_ ,” was all Aziraphale said. The Angel stopped in the middle of the village square, scanning the humans that were milling about.

“That’ss him there, angel,” Crowley said, their arm outstretched and pointing at a man across the way.

He looked pretty much how you’d expect. Nice hair, nice form, jackass face. He had an air of “I am aware that I am physically attractive so I feel entitled to everything.” He was with some other men, all laughing at something unimportant. Probably something about beer, or wenches, or the latest joust.

Aziraphale marched up to the group of human men, followed by Crowley. When the men saw Crowley, they started whistling and laughing more.

“Excuse me, sir, might I have a word with you?” Aziraphale said to Jackass, his tone harsh despite the polite words.

Jackass looked at his friends, then shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve harassing this...young woman…” Aziraphale looked back at Crowley apologetically. They shrugged, now wasn’t the time to get into another gender discussion.

“I didn’t harass anybody,” Jackass said, to the amusement of his friends.

“Well my companion here says you grabbed their...uh...posterior,” unbeknownst to Jackass, Aziraphale’s manicured hands were curled into fists. 

“Didn’t know that appreciating someone’s body was harassment,” Jackass drawled, looking over Crowley over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale was shaking. Crowley could feel his anger rolling off of him in waves, and was surprised that the humans couldn’t feel it. They could see Aziraphale’s back rippling like his wings were barely being restrained. 

Aziraphale got real close to Jackass, speaking very quietly and slowly. “I swear to the Almighty, if you touch my _fiancée_ ever again, I will send you straight to Hell, my friend.” And then Aziraphale Did Something. Something that Crowley couldn’t see, but could sense. He let just a little bit of Heaven leak out of his corporation. The sort of thing usually followed with “Be not afraid!”

Jackass’ eyes widened and filled with pure fear, and he turned tail and ran, followed by his friends.

Aziraphale relaxed, and the aura of power disappeared. He turned and pulled Crowley into a hug. He was shaking.

Crowley held him back for a moment. “Fiancée?” They asked.

“Yes, uh, with those kinds of men, they don’t respect women, you see. Another man laying a claim is the only thing they’ll respect. I’m sorry dear, I just didn’t know what to do,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“Wrath is a sin, you know,” Crowley teased, pulling back to look at Aziraphale’s face.

“Ah, but not righteous anger, my dearest,” Aziraphale shot back, quirking an eyebrow. “You cannot get me that easily, you wily thing.”

Crowley shrugged. “A Demon can try, can’t they?”

“Try and fail. I’ll always be able to thwart you. Now, back to tea?” Aziraphale asked, extending his arm.

“That would be nice, thanks,” Crowley responded, looping their arm through Aziraphale’s.

Drinking tea quickly turned to drinking alcohol.

“Did! Did you ssssee his facssssse! I think he sssshit himssself, angel!” Crowley was lounging on the couch, their head rail thrown across the room long ago. Their ringlets kept getting in their face. 

Aziraphale blushed. Crowley decided that they liked it a lot when their angel blushed.

_Oof, not again with those “my angel” thoughts please,_ Crowley thought.

“Anybody who treats another person like that deserves to sh- hrm...defecate their pants!” Aziraphale took another sip of wine.

“Do you think the Grey Night, that Cu-Cuil- _fuck_. The guy with the cows. Do y-you think he messssed his pantsss when I defeated him?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale grimaced. “I wasn’t p-paying any attention to him, dear. I was more focused on the fact that you had lost your arm!”

“Pssshhh I could’ve grown it back!”

“Well, there wasn’t really anything _wrong_ with the arm, other than being attached. And you have to admit that reattaching the arm was faster than growing a new one.”

Crowley slithered down the couch a little, so they were now laying down, their dress hiked just a bit, exposing their ankles. “Alright, yeah, I’ll give you that. What did the other Knights think when they saw my arm back?”

Aziraphale, sitting in an armchair, coughed and made eye contact with Crowley. He had been looking at their legs, Crowley noted with satisfaction.

“They didn’t really notice, to be honest. Arthur and Lancelot got in that awful fight, and then he marched off to confront Mordred, and well, you know how that ended,” Aziraphale frowned, remembering his friend from almost 500 years ago.

“Yeah, poor basstard. Mordred was his nephew _and_ his son, if I remember the gossssip correctly?” Crowley’s tongue momentarily lost itself and flicked out, long and forky.

“Y-y-yes, that’s right,” Aziraphale stuttered. “It was an accident, see. He was raised away from the family, so he didn’t _know_ Anna was his sister. He was quite horrified when he found out, you know.”

“It’s interessssting how different we are from the humansssss, don’t you think?”

“You’re uh, going to have to be more sp-specific, please.”

“Humanssss are againsssst incesssst, which, considering how humanity and such works, yeah that’sssss grosssssss. But in Heaven everyone issss everyone else’ brother. We’re not _actually_ related, though. Issssss there a ssssssimilar taboo Upssstairsss, angel?” _Man, I’m really drunk if I can’t get a word out without hissing._

“Well, like you said, none of us are actually related. It’s more like, a term of endearment, maybe? Plus there aren’t a lot of angelsssss, ahem, angels, uh, making love and whatnot in Heaven.”

“Just here on earth, eh?” Crowley said, cheekily.

“Ah, why, pfft, you, my word, hhhhh, serpent, of all the,” sputtered Aziraphale, rather cutely, turning beet red.

Crowley pulled themself up from the couch and climbed into Aziraphale’s lap, making him sputter and stutter even more. 

“Let’s get _married_ , angel,” Crowley whispered in Aziraphale’s ear. _Hey, what the fuck are you doing?_

“Wh-why?” Aziraphale’s hands lifted from the arms of the couch to rest on Crowle’s thighs.

“Ssssssso you can help me out until I feel more masssssculine again,” said Crowley.

“That’s no reason to get married,” said Aziraphale.

“We’ve gotten married for lessssss.” Crowley’s fingers found their way into Aziraphale’s hair.

“Hhhnngg, I suppose so.” Aziraphale’s hands slid up to Crowley’s waist.

“And we’re friendsssss now, aren’t we? That’sssss more than can be ssssaid of some married couplesssss thessssssse dayssssss.” Crowley focused hard on their tongue, willing it back in line. “And you’d be protecting me from inconvenient discorporation from angry men. Think of how noble that is, angel.” _Are you tempting him, or do you actually feel these things?_

_Shush, I’m repressing._

Crowley nosed along Aziraphale’s hairline, behind his ear. The Angel shivered, then the world tilted and Crowley was sitting in the chair by themself, and Aziraphale was on the other side of the room.

“Alright, off to the church, then!” He shouted, the apples of his cheeks red as...er...apples.

Crowley groaned. “Oh, come on, angel! Can’t we get a pagan wedding this time? Your side’s weddings hurt.”

Aziraphale slapped his forehead. “Oh, of course, dear, how could I be so insensitive! Of course we can get a pagan wedding!” Aziraphale stood and thought for a moment. “What if we popped over to Scandinavia for it, hm?”

Crowley jumped up. “You mean have a Viking wedding? Hell yeah!” They shouted. Crowley was particularly fond of the Vikings. They were the inspiration one of the Norse gods, and not the one you’d think. They had been to Scandinavia once before, long ago, and she had a pretty good time, in their current opinion. She had gone to several parties and easily performed several temptations. But she also had a bit _too_ much fun and gotten very drunk, and very loudly lamented to anyone who would listen to her about her relationship problems. The people she partied with that week pitied this lovely woman who was somehow forbidden from being with her heart’s desire. “Lovin’! Tha’sssss wha’ I wan’! Lovin’! Lovin’! Ack!” And then she disappeared into the night continuing her chant of “Lovin’...Lovin’...” until her voice vanished. The goddess Lofn was the goddess of forbidden love, and people prayed to her in hopes of getting permission to wed. 

When Crowley got back from Scandinavia, she had a horrible hangover, no memory of the past couple days, and a commendation for the creation of a new pagan god.

———————————————————————————————————————

Preparing for a wedding in Scandinavia required a few interesting steps. For one, Crowley had to pretend to be a virgin and show up with a little gold circlet on their head that proclaimed this fact. Aziraphale was expected to go retrieve a sword from the grave of a dead family member. Aziraphale did not have any dead family members, and didn’t feel like going up to heaven to grab a sword when he was _supposed_ to have one anyway, so he miracled a huge production of going behind a tree and coming back with a stick that had forgotten it was a stick for the time being. He ended up being stung by a bee. Crowley found this very funny when Aziraphale recounted it for them later.

They both had to take ceremonial baths, and Crowley had to very solemnly give up their circlet that they _just made_ but whatever it didn’t matter that much, it's not like they _liked it_. Shut up.

The Norse didn’t have rules about clothes, like the bride has to wear this color or that color. They just had to dress nice. Also Crowley had to wear a crown made of braided wheat and flowers. 

It was Frigga’s-Day, the best day to get married. Aziraphale and Crowley stood outside with the members of the village they had descended upon a few days before, telling a story about a massacre that left them without a family to help them through their wedding. Crowley told the story, of course, and considered the lies enough to balance out Aziraphale helping them out. Or something equally ridiculous.

Crowley’s head was itching from the wheat crown, but at least they weren’t burning up. Aziraphale was wearing his “sword” on his hip, and looked quite dashing in his Nordic clothes, Crowley decided. A young man next to Crowley held a brand new sword for them.

A sow was brought out as a sacrifice for Freyja, goddess of love and marriage. It was walked up to the altar, and a priest slit its throat. Aziraphale jumped, even though he knew it was going to happen. The priest put a bowl under the animal’s neck, filling with blood. The sow was taken away by some young men to continue the butchering process. The meat would form part of the wedding feast. 

The priest set the bowl of blood on an altar, then dipped a bundle of fir twigs into it. He then flicked the bundle at Aziraphale and Crowley and the assembled guests.

_This is metal as fuck_ , Crowley thought, approximately 960 years before metal music would be invented.

Aziraphale handed Crowley his sword, and Crowley handed Aziraphale the sword from the young man beside them. The ancestral “sword” signified the traditions of the family and the continuation of the bloodline, while the sword given to Aziraphale by Crowley symbolized the transfer of the father's power of guardianship and protection over the bride to her new husband. Or that’s what the priest said.

After the exchange of swords, they exchanged their first ever rings. They were simple bands of metal, nothing fancy, but the metal seemed to burn on Crowley’s finger. Not the way consecrated objects burned. No, this was more of a pleasant heat, like a Hyper Awareness that this was Symbolic of a Bond. 

The next step was for them to speak their vows. They both took hold of the hilt of Aziraphale’s new sword with their left hands.

The two of them didn’t know if they were supposed to speak in unison, and the Scandinavian people gathered weren’t sure who told them to do so, but the way that their voices complemented each other had an otherworldly feel to it. Those present would tell their children, their grandchildren, and their great grandchildren that they were at the wedding of two gods, come down in human form because neither Aesir or Vanir would wed them.

“You cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me for I am a free person. 

I pledge to you that it will be your eyes into which I smile every morning. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back, and you for mine.”

I shall not slander you, nor you me. I shall honor you above all others, and when we quarrel, we shall do so in private and tell no strangers our grievances.”

This is my wedding vow to you. This is a marriage of equals.”

This, their third wedding, is where things start to change. I don’t know if you know much about the number three, but it is extremely powerful.

Three is the number that gives us an all.

There are three parts of our world: heaven, earth, and water.

Three parts of humans: mind, body, and soul.

Beginning, middle, end. Birth, life, beginning. Maiden, Mother, Crone. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Three Fates, three Gray Sisters, three Furies, three Gorgons, three heads on Cerberus, three tails on Scylla, three animals in the Chimera. There are three Scandinavian Norns, and a Slavic moon god with three heads.

The number three is significant to every culture in every country in every continent in the entire world. 

And the third wedding between an occult being and an ethereal being? That sent a ripple into the world. A ripple that turned into a wave. A wave that was felt by two very douchey Bureaucrats. But we’ll get to them later. Right now Aziraphale is about to thrust his sword into a tree, and no that is not a euphemism for docking.

Aziraphale and Crowley had to _race_ back to the mead hall. Crowley tried to cheat by using their wings, so Aziraphale retaliated by using _his_ wings, further cementing in the minds of the humans that they were entertaining two gods who weren’t very good at hiding that they were gods. One pious individual thought that the bride seemed ever so much like the art of Lofn. An old woman saw the snake mark on the bride and swore that she was really Loki. One guest was adamant that the groom was Baldur, while yet another insisted that he was Syn. 

Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t care at all which gods the humans were trying to decide they were. They were way too busy racing to the end hall to notice what was being discussed behind them. 

Crowley was sure they were winning. They were lighter and liked going fast. But Aziraphale had a feast to look forward to, and was quickly gaining headway. They were neck and neck, the mead hall in sight. Crowley looked over to look at Aziraphale. The Angel was flying with reckless abandon, not even caring that humans could see him. Crowley was unsure when they last saw Aziraphale look like that when food wasn’t in his hands, if ever. _What would heaven do to him if they found out about this? Our friendship. For that matter, what would hell do to me if they found out I’m...I...love him? No, I don’t care what happens to me, as long as he stays safe._

_Better is open rebuke than hidden love._

Crowley faltered, nearly falling out of the sky and giving Aziraphale the lead he needed to reach the hall first. Crowley shook themself, and tried to push the sound of the Voice out of their head. When they finally landed in front of the hall, they were still shaken up, but hiding it. 

Aziraphale was standing in the doorway to the mead hall, blocking the way in with his sword. Crowley walked to the door to enter.

“Sorry, dear, I can’t let you do that,” Aziraphale said when Crowley tried to shove past.

“Why not?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale put his sword away, then scooped Crowley up in his arms and carried them over the threshold. “It’s a tradition, dear one.”

Crowley was _not_ blushing, they weren’t! (They were.)

Aziraphale carried Crowley all the way to a table and set them down, taking his seat next to them. “You know, dear, there’s another tradition. Since you lost the race, you have to serve me during dinner.” Aziraphale said this the same way you’d recount an interesting fact about, say, sea cucumbers. 

The mere idea of serving and feeding Aziraphale had Crowley making an Effort faster than they could say “Ngk.” Which is what they really did say.

This brings us to the tree. The tree was inside of the mead hall, and covered in scars. It served as a support pillar. Aziraphale went to the tree, and brandished the sword high. Then with a mighty lunge, plunged the sword hilt deep into the tree. The assembled crowd cheered and started eating. Aziraphale pulled the sword out and examined the pillar, reinforcing it with magic before sitting down with Crowley.

“That’s supposed to test the luck of our marriage, I think,” Aziraphale said. 

_Oof_.

Crowley spent the evening getting Aziraphale food, watching him eat, and guzzling down buckets of water in an attempt to keep their temperature down. It did not work.

The wedding feast lasted a week. Yes, an entire week of eating and drinking and partying. Aziraphale and Crowley did not participate in this week long feast. For the most part. This is because of what happened on the wedding night. 

Crowley was taken from the feast to the house they were borrowing. They were arranged in the bed in a white slip, hair long and unbound, still wearing the bridal crown. There were candles arranged all around the room, illuminating the room and casting long shadows. Crowley didn’t know why they were nervous. They’ve had sex with Aziraphale a few times now, and they were fine.

“I’m fine! I’m just fine, dammit. This is fine, this is fine, this is fine,” Crowley was muttering when Aziraphale opened the door.

“No, I’m _quite_ certain you don’t need to watch. Yes, I _know_ that legally we need six witnesses, but I’m serious. Alright listen, you _will_ leave us alone, and you _will_ tell whoever it concerns that you saw us doing all sorts of sex acts. Now _do_ sod off, thank you.” Aziraphale came in the room, quickly shut the door, and leaned on it, shutting his eyes. “Dear lord, Crowley, did you know that they wanted to watch to make sure we _did it_?” 

“Angel.”

“Can’t they just take our word for it? Humans are ridiculous.”

“ _Angel_.”

“Or we could sign a document saying that we definitely did it, no need for witnesses.”

“AZIRAPHALE!”

Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked at Crowley. His eyes traveled down the length of their body. 

“Does that mean no _love making_ this time?” Crowley asked, leaning back on their elbows. 

_Oh, so its making love, now?_

_Shush shush shush._

Aziraphale gulped. “I didn’t say that, dear. God...God made all forms of love...including the physical...and I _am_ a being of love, after all.”

_Don’t say that to me, angel. Please._

“Then come here, angel,” Crowley whispered, barely audible to anyone but the two of them.

Aziraphale came and knelt beside the bed next to Crowley. They took a deep breath when Aziraphale reached for their glasses, mentally putting up shields so that the Angel wouldn’t see all the squishy, sappy stuff in their eyes.

Aziraphale removed Crowley’s sunglasses and put them on the table next to the bed. He removed the crown, careful not to pull any of Crowley’s hair. This too he set on the table. 

“I have now been ceremoniously deflowered,” Crowley said, deadpan.

“You’re stupid,” Aziraphale said before he kissed them.

Did you know that when people have a sexual experience, their bodies go through four distinct phases? They are Excitement, Plateau, Orgasm, and Resolution. In 1966 a book will get published about it. Here’s how they go this evening.

**Excitement** : Crowley and Aziraphale kiss for several minutes, mouths open and fingers digging into each other’s hair. Aziraphale pulls on Crowley’s hair, and they lean their head back, giving Aziraphale the room he wanted to bite and lick their neck. This activates something in Crowley, and they flip Aziraphale over onto his back. Aziraphale’s eyes go wide. The few times they’ve done this, Aziraphale had always been in the same role and Crowley had been in the same role.

Crowley decided that this was going to change. They literally tear Aziraphale’s clothes off, biting and sucking marks down his torso. Aziraphale trembled and moaned, his body flushing. Everywhere Crowley puts their mouth seems to set Aziraphale on fire. _Everywhere_ _they put their mouth_. 

_Like an apple among the trees of the forest is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste._

**Plateau** : Crowley does a fantastic impression of Aziraphale plunging his sword into the tree in the mead hall.

_Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon; your mouth is lovely…_

Their hearts, unseeded most of the time, beat fast.

_His arms are rods of gold set with topaz. His body is like polished ivory decorated with lapis lazuli._

Hands grasp at sheets, feet rub along calves.

_Sixty queens there may be, and eighty concubines, and virgins beyond number; but my dove, my perfect one, is unique…_

Lips crash together, swallowing moans.

_His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold._

It’s a very sweaty affair.

_Your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of an artist’s hands. Your navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks blended wine._

Something builds up.

_Your stature is like that of the palm, and your breasts like clusters of fruit. I said, “I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.”_

**Orgasm** : There are muscle contractions, and vocalizations, and a wave of Magical Energy of Threes bursts through the world, smacking an Angel right in the face where he sat in Heaven.

“What the Heaven is that?” He said to himself, reaching for a piece of metal on his desk. He brushed his thumb against a symbol, and placed the metal next to his ear.

“What ze fuck do you want?” An annoyed voice said through the metal object.

“Did you feel that?” The Angel asked.

“Of courze I did, dumbazz, I’m not ztupid,” zey, a Demon, said.

“Alright, dickhead, I’m just trying to be polite. Up to meet and discuss it?”

“I’m abzolutely not. I’ll be there in ten minutez. Hate you.”

“Yeah, hate you too. Cuck.”

**Resolution** : Crowley and Aziraphale laid in bed, sheets tangled in their legs, and spooning. Crowley was wrapped around Aziraphale, holding the Angel tight to their chest. Aziraphale had somehow fallen asleep, a rare thing for him. Crowley was gently tracing patterns on Aziraphale’s skin with their long fingers.

“I would never tell you thiss if you were awake, angel,” Crowley whispered into Aziraphale’s hair, “but I...I _love you_.”

Crowley closed their eyes, inhaling the complex scent of the Angel in their arms. They fell asleep.

When a human came knocking the next morning to bring them to the feast, they got a boot thrown at them followed by a “Shoo! Begone!” And a frightening hiss. The human scurried off to warn the other humans not to bother them. Money changed hands and bets were made while they tried to figure out who exactly they had in their village.

Crowley and Aziraphale spent the whole week in that bedroom. They laughed and loved and ate and had a genuinely good time for the first time in a long time.

They had no idea what was coming for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WILL find a way to incorporate Song of Solomon in this thing as much as I can cuz its just so good!
> 
> Info about Viking weddings can be found here: http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/wedding.shtml
> 
> And the vows I used here are often used by modern pagans and I can’t find the original source, but they can be found here: https://www.celticdruidtemple.com/celticweddings.html


	4. Humility: A Liberation From Consciousness of Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to fool your gay idiot bosses when you’re also gay idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is mostly from Beelz and Gabe’s perspectives.  
> This one also has a slightly detailed sex scene, and as a horrible homage to cheesy romance novels, it is written in a very Specific Way.  
> Here is a quick guide to understanding Beelz:  
> z-ss sound  
> Zz-th sound  
> There are some exceptions, but thats the general idea.

**1020**

Beelzebub and Gabriel hated each other. It was nothing personal, per se, it was just what Angels and Demons did. Actually, it was also pretty personal. They’ve kept in contact with each other the same way two human generals on warring sides would. And by this I mean they’d send each other messages bragging about their victories and then insult each other. Never have they ever _sat down face to face_ with each other to talk. That was just plain ridiculous.

And yet, here they were, sitting in a tavern, two tankards of ale between them. One was untouched, and the other was only about a quarter of the way gone, drank more out of professional obligation than any actual desire for it. Both wore clothes that were _technically_ what everyone else was wearing, i.e. tunics and leggings, but both were very, very bad at it. Beelzebub was wearing high quality clothing that was torn and dirty, and zir hair was unbrushed and tangled, no facial hair to speak of. In fact, it was quite difficult for any of the humans in the tavern to figure out zir gender, which was just how zey liked it. Gabriel was wearing cheap leggings with a velvet tunic. His shirt said “Bring me fresh wine, peasant,” and his pants said, “Yes, sir, please don’t burn down my farm.” The hair on his head was long and his face was clean shaven.

“Listen, I know what I’m talking about,” Gabriel was saying, “it was a massive wave of ethereal energy.”

“It definitely waz not,” Beelzebub replied, “it waz occult energy.”

Gabriel blinked blankly at Beelzebub, the way one would when one heard another person say something incredibly stupid. “Uh, negative, it was definitely ethereal.”

Beelzebub glared at Gabriel, the way one would when one just saw their dog shit on the floor while maintaining eye contact. “No, it waz occult.”

“No, ethereal.”

“No, occult.”

“Ethereal.”

“Occult.”

“Ethereal.”

“Occult.”

“Eth-“

“Oi, shut up already!” Shouted a very disgruntled, very tired innkeeper.

One of the flies buzzing around Beelzebub’s head flew across the room to bother the innkeeper.

“Anyway, it was a massive wave of energy and we both felt it. I haven’t gotten any reports of unusual behavior from my agents on earth,” Gabriel said.

“Nozzing from my agentz eizzer,” Beelzebub replied. “We should azk about it.”

Gabriel stroked his chin. “Perhaps.”

“Unlezz you zzink your angelz don’t know anyzzing, zince it waz occult energy,” Zey smirked.

“It! Ugh. Fine. I have an angel stationed nearby for a blessing, I’ll ask him.”

“Yez, I have a demon cloze for a temptation. What a charming coinzidence zzat zzey’re bozz nearby.”

Gabriel blinked, mouthing words to himself. “‘That they’re both nearby!’ Yes, absolutely, very good.”

Beelzebub cocked zir head to the side like a dog listening to a far away sound. “He iz cloze by. You hide zo he doezn’t zee you, and I’ll talk to him.” Gabriel nodded and slid under the table.

Beelzebub slouched in zir seat and took a drink from zir ale. Zey grimaced at the taste and set it down.

Just then, Crowley sauntered into the tavern, wearing black leggings and black tunics and black boots. His hair was chin length and he had a short beard, as was the style. He walked to the bar and didn’t so much as lean against the counter as drape his torso over it.

“Bottle of your finest wine, pleasse,” he said.

The innkeeper stared at him. “We don’t have wine.”

Crowley sighed. “Ale, then.”

The innkeeper grunted and handed Crowley a tankard. As Crowley turned to find a seat, Beelzebub spoke up to get his attention.

“Demon Crowley!” Zey shouted. Several humans turned to stare, but Beelzebub flared zir aura and the humans decided that they hadn’t heard anything unusual at all.

Crowley jumped and spilled some of his ale on his shirt. “Lord Beelzebub!” His eyes darted around, then he scurried over to his boss. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Beelzebub leaned back in zir chair, propping zir feet up on the table. “I have zome queztionz for you.”

Crowley nodded and sat down at the table. “Assk away, Lord Beelzebub.”

“I waz already planning on it, thankz,” Beelzebub drawled sarcastically. “How do humanz meazure time? Tearz?”

“Um, years, my lord. One year is 365 days, one days is 24 hours, one hour is 60 minu-”

“Yez, yez, you don’t have to explain zze whole damned zzing. Juzt a couple decadez ago, zzere waz a very large zurge of occult energy-” Gabriel pinched Beelzebub’s calf from under the table.

Crowley looked around for the source of the _thud_ that came from Beelzebub kicking Gabriel.

“A wave of occult energy the likez of which I’ve never felt. Do you know what might’ve cauzed it?”

Crowley tapped his chin with one long finger. “Occult energy, eh? You say it was about twenty years ago? Hm. Where did it come from?”

Beelzebub pulled a grimy piece of paper out of zir pocket and checked a note. “A human village in Zcandinavia.”

Crowley grabbed his tankard and took a large drink from it before responding. “Twenty years ago in Scandinavia. Hmm. Well you know those Vikings. They have some wild parties, haha.”

“Zzzz,” Beelzebub breathed, zir version of a thoughtful exhalation. “Perhapz ‘twaz juzt a party. Well, if you hear or zee anyzzing, report it immediately. Have an awful day.”

Crowley, seeing that he was being dismissed, stood up and saluted. “Uh, yessir, will do. Have an awful rest of your day, my lord.” Crowley rushed to leave the tavern, almost taking the tankard with him if that innkeeper hadn’t reminded him that he was holding it.

Once Crowley was gone, Gabriel came out from under the table. “Was kicking me necessary?”

“Don’t pinch me,” Beelzebub growled, a horsefly emerging from zir shirt.

Gabriel scoffed. “Whatever. So that conversation seemed useless.”

“Yeah, demon Crowley iz an idiot. He getz work done, zzough,” Beelzebub said, “And your Angel? Where iz it?”

“ _He_ ,” Gabriel hissed, before touching his fingers to his temple. “Actually, he’s on his way here right now. Oh, he’s walking in, quick under the table!” Beelzebub quickly dropped under the table as Aziraphale entered the tavern.

Aziraphale went straight to the bar.

“Ah, good afternoon, your finest wine and stew, please, good chap.”

“ _Sweet Jesus_ WE DON’T HAVE ANY WINE!” The innkeeper yelled.

Aziraphale’s eyelashes fluttered in surprise. “Well you don’t have to _yell_ ,” he snapped, “Just give me something to drink.”

The innkeeper glared at Aziraphale, muttered something about out-of-towners, then poured him a glass of ale and gave it to him with a bowl of stew.

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel called. “Aziraphale, here!”

Without turning around, Aziraphale leaned close to the innkeeper and whispered. “Is there a man who’s the epitome of ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ calling my name back there?”

The innkeeper looked around Aziraphale to inspect Gabriel. “If your name is Aziraphale, then yeah. Tall, dark, and handsome is that one. Damn.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and sighed, then stood up straight and turned with a smile. “Gabriel! Is that you?” He approached the table with his food.

“Of _course_ it’s me, Aziraphale, don’t you recognize my body? It’s the same one you last saw me in,” Gabriel said, also with a smile.

Aziraphale primly sat down and started eating. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, yes, there was a spike in ethereal-hrrg-energy about twenty years ago in Scandinavia do you know anything?” Gabriel flicked Beelzebub’s ear. Beelzebub had earned this flick by punching Gabriel where humans usually had genitals. Gabriel, fortunately, had never had genitals, so was spared from further pain. Didn’t make it hurt any less, of course.

Aziraphale turned red, and took a gulp of his ale. “Tw-twenty years ago in Scandinavia? Can’t say I know what that could’ve been, I’m afraid. Scandinavia? Could’ve been a Viking party. They’re quite uh, vigorous sometimes, you know.”

“Riiiiiight. Well, if you think of anything, don’t be afraid to call. Have a blessed day.” Gabriel flashed Aziraphale a sickeningly white smile.

Aziraphale sat still for a second before realizing that he was being dismissed. He quickly finished his stew, and got up, dropping his dishes at the counter and running out the door.

Beelzebub climbed out from under the table on Gabriel’s side, appearing like a daisy in between his legs. They were about eye level like this.

“Your angel izn’t very bright eizzer, iz he?”

“Ah, afraid not. Very interesting coincidence that they both would show up here, though.”

The two Bureaucrats sat and stood thinking for a second, not bothering the strange position they were in.

“We should follow zzem,” Beelzebub finally said.

“That is the smartest thing you’ve said all day! Let’s go!”

———————————————————————————————————————

Beelzebub and Gabriel were squatting in a bush. They had split up and followed their targets until they had met up, confusing the two spies greatly. They were watching Crowley and Aziraphale argue from across the town square. Gabriel and Beelzebub couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Why are they talking, and not trying to kill each other?” Gabriel whispered.

“I don’t know. Itz weird, and unnatural,” Beelzebub whispered back.

They both failed to see the irony.

Crowley was waving his arms around, talking animatedly.

“Maybe it’s a ploy. Aziraphale will smite your Demon any second, just you wait.”

“Doubtful. I’ll bet zzat Crowley will dizcorporate your Angel before your Angel can zmite him.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will _not_.”

“Will _too_.”

“Shush, shush, shush, they’ll hear us!” Gabriel very nearly yelled.

“Don’t tell me to zhuzh, you zhuzh,” Beelzebub very nearly, almost yelled.

Gabriel clapped his hand over Beelzebub’s mouth, silencing zem. He watched Aziraphale and Crowley stop talking for a second to look around before returning to whatever it was they were discussing. Gabriel felt something muscley and wet run across his palm.

Beelzebub had licked him!

Gabriel pulled his hand away and fell backwards onto his butt. He inspected his palm, which looked fine, and then looked at Beelzebub, who was scowling and looking red in the face.

“Why did you do that?” Gabriel whispered, feeling an uncomfortable tingle in the middle of his corporation.

“Zo you’d take your hand off my mouzz!” Beelzebub whispered back, also feeling some uncomfortable tingles.

“Don’t yell, then! We almost got caught!” Gabriel pointed at their targets, who were starting to walk away. Beelzebub scooched closer to look through the bush.

“Why are zzey doing zzat?” Zey said, referring to the way Aziraphale had looped his arm through Crowley’s.

“I don’t know, but I’ve seen a lot of humans doing it, but I don’t know why. Oh shit, we’re going to lose them.” Gabriel leapt up from behind the bush and started walking after Aziraphale and Crowley.

Beelzebub buzzed irritably, then followed, looping zir arm through Gabriel’s.

Gabriel started. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re blending in. It’z an important part of ztalking zomeone,” Beelzebub answered.

“Hmph. Alright.”

Beelzebub and Gabriel followed behind Aziraphale and Crowley for the whole afternoon. They followed them to a restaurant, where they watched Aziraphale eat. They followed them to a pond, where Crowley fed some ducks. They followed them to a tavern, where they got very drunk. The last place they followed them was to a small house, which they stood outside of rather awkwardly.

Gabriel and Beelzebub were peeking at them from around the rock.

“They haven’t fought each other at all. All they’ve done is walk around doing human stuff,” Gabriel pondered, ponderously.

“Maybe zzey have a temporary truze like we do, in order to find out about zzat energy wave,” Beelzebub also pondered, ponderingly.

“Maybe. Wait, they’re doing something weird again.”

Aziraphale was very red, very wobbly, and threw his arm around Crowley’s torso and pulled the Demon flush to his chest. Crowley wrapped both of his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and suddenly they were smashing their mouths together.

“Are they kissing?” Gabriel asked, his eyes wide.

“Zzey’re kizzing!” Beelzebub gasped, zir flies freezing in midair.

The arm that wasn’t under Crowley’s arms Aziraphale reached down with to grab Crowley’s leg behind his knee, lifting it up and hooking it to his [hip](https://www.google.com/search?q=cheesy+romance+novel+covers&client=safari&channel=ipad_bm&prmd=isvn&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi8-YWV-5LkAhVFI6wKHYcgDBQQ_AUoAXoECAwQAQ&biw=1024&bih=666#imgrc=nmEJq_siWVU0vM).

“Oof,” Beelzebub grunted, blinking rapidly and shaking zir head as if zey had just been splashed with water.

“What is it?” Gabriel asked, looking at the Lord of Hell with concern.

“Zzat’z a lot of luzt coming from zzem right now. I didn’t even know Angelz could feel zzat.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Angels don’t lust.”

Beelzebub pinched Gabriel’s cheek. “I’m a Demon, azz, I zzink I’d know what luzt feelz like. And itz rolling off of zzem in...oofa...drovez.”

“Your Demon is influencing him, tempting him! I have to intervene before he Falls!” Gabriel started to stand up but Beelzebub pulled him down.

“No, don’t, I want to zee what zzey do!” Beelzebub growled.

Beelzebub had a rather firm grip on Gabriel, and was very strong despite zir smaller size, which isn’t even that small because Beelzebub was only 5’6” which is a perfectly average size, thank you very much.

Gabriel was about to protest again when it was his turn to blink and look confused. “That can’t be right, either.”

Aziraphale and Crowley had softened their kiss, and Crowley was standing on the ground with both feet. They were gently pressing kisses to each other’s faces, and drunkenly giggling.

“I sense...love...from both of them,” Gabriel whispered, his brows furrowed.

“Adflkzfzjhfah what??” Beelzebub said.

“I don’t think human mouths are supposed to make noises like that.”

“Good zzing I’m not human, zzen izn’t it? What’chu mean zzey’re bozz feeling love? Demonz don’t love,” Beelzebub buzzed.

“Oh, don’t be a hypocrite. If you’re so adamant that my Angel is feeling lust, then you can’t get all uppity about me saying that your Demon is feeling love,” Gabriel declared.

“I’m a Demon, I’m allowed to be a hypocrite all I want.”

“You’re making up rules, shut up,” Gabriel waved his hand at Beelzebub, who smacked it away.

Crowley was pulling away from Aziraphale, who kept taking little steps to follow.

“Angel, ‘m ssseriousss, I have t’ go!” Crowley was saying. “‘M way too drunk right now.”

“Oh, do come in, dear boy. Just for some tea or coffee,” Aziraphale pleaded.

Crowley chewed on his lip, looking like he was thinking about it. “It’s too rissky, angel. We shouldn’t have sssssssspent sssssso much time t’gether today, what with our bossessssss vissssiting usss both like they did.”

Gabriel and Beelzebub glanced at each other, interested indeed in this turn of conversation. At least they weren’t kissing anymore, despite Aziraphale’s best efforts. And that’s effort, not Effort, you dirty birds.

“You know w-what I think, Crowley? I, I think they know about the last, ahem, the _last time_ ,” Aziraphale said in a very loud whisper, looking around rather conspiratorially.

Crowley’s eyebrows knit together above his glasses. “What the devil are you talking about?”

Aziraphale sighed, exasperated. “You know, the last time we had the _ceremony_.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows inched closer and closer to his hairline.

Crowley’s lips formed a comical little “O”. “Oh yeah, right, the _ceremony_ we performed in _Scandinavia_ about _twenty years ago_ , right right right.”

Beelzebub whacked Gabriel in the shoulder and pointed excitedly at Crowley and Aziraphale. Gabriel put a finger to his lips and winked.

“So, are we still on schedule for the _ritual_ to celebrate our _temporary alliance_?” Aziraphale asked, the red vanishing from his face.

“Yeah, yeah, of courssse we are, Aziraphale of coursssss,” Crowley hissed, “and uh, after the uh, threat is neutralized, we’ll, uh, part waysss forever.”

“Absolutely, dear boy, at least until it surfaces again. Goodnight, then.” Aziraphale nodded curtly, opened the door, and slipped inside.

Crowley waved the Angel inside, then started walking back up the road, kicking a rock as he went.

Gabriel and Beelzebub were now sitting in the grass behind their rock, both with their chins in their hands.

“Zo, hold on. Zzere iz zome zzreat to...what, bozz Angelkind and Demonkind?”

“And they team up every so often to defeat it?”

“With zome kind of ritual?”

“But why the kissing?”

“And all the luzt and shit.”

They sat in contemplative silence for three hours. After an additional twenty-seven minutes, Beelzebub spoke up.

“Maybe the kizzing waz a way of zealing the pact?”

“Perhaps, yes. And the lust was just their corporations natural reaction to the stimuli, plus the drinking,” Gabriel added.

“Zzat’z what I waz zzinking, yeah. And zze love waz more like, devotion, or loyalty to zzeir zidez,” Beelzebub said.

“Yes, this makes sense. Wait…” Gabriel trailed off.

Beelzebub glanced at him. “What?

“We have a pact.”

“Yez. Zo?”

“So, we didn’t do any kissing about it. Does that mean its not an official pact? Do you think we could get in trouble with the Big Bosses if we’ve been waltzing about like this in an improper truce?”

Beelzebub looked off into the middle distance, looking like zey were doing complex mathematics in zir head. “Maybe. It _doez_ look eazier zzan filling out a bunch of formz or zomezzing.” Zey straightened zir tie. “Shall we?”

Gabriel looked uncertain. “I’ve never done that. It looks messy and weird.”

“It’z very wet,” Beelzebub said, “I’ve done it before, for temptationz and zuch.”

Gabriel looked Beelzebub up and down. “Take as much offense as you want, but could you maybe put some of the flies away?”

Beelzebub stared at Gabriel, then sucked in a deep breath of air, the flies disappearing into zir mouth. The mud and pus on zir face disappeared as well. Underneath the filth, Beelzebub had a rather pleasant face.

Gabriel looked at Beelzebub expectantly. “You’re going to have to take the initiative here, unfortunately. I don’t know how to st-mmph.” Gabriel found himself being interrupted by Beelzebub grabbing his face with zir hands and squishing their mouths together.

Gabriel’s eyes crossed from trying to look at Beelzebub, who had zir eyes closed. Following zir example, Gabriel closed his eyes as well. It wasn’t a terrible sensation, Gabriel had to admit. It was a pleasantly warm pressure that his corporation seemed to find satisfying. Beelzebub’s hands felt hot on his face, and his own palms felt itchy. He thought back to the times he’d seen people kiss, and put his hands on Beelzebub’s waist.

Beelzebub liked that a lot, but zey didn’t know why. Zey repositioned zir arms so that they were around Gabriel’s neck, and tilted zir head a little bit to the side so that their noses were next to each other instead of bumping together.

Gabriel gasped at the sudden increase in contact, and Beelzebub slipped zir tongue into his mouth. It was wet and slimy and Gabriel thought for sure that he should hate it, but he found himself leaning more and more into the embrace until Beelzebub’s back hit the ground with Gabriel on top of zem.

Gabriel’s body was bigger than Beelzebub’s, was heavier, and soon Beelzebub parted zir knees so that Gabriel could rest more naturally on top of zem. Gabriel felt that uncomfortable tingle building in his stomach, until he felt his flesh seem to bubble and morph. Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable in his pelvic region.

Beelzebub pulled away and looked up at Gabriel, smirking. “You naughty little Archangel.”

Gabriel felt like he swallowed some kind of winged bug. “What are you talking about, Demon?”

Beelzebub wiggled one of zir hands down between their bodies and pressed against the source of Gabriel’s discomfort.

Gabriel yelped and ground against Beelzebub’s hand.

“Fazcinating. Have you ever manifezted genitalz before, Archangel?” Beelzebub said clinically despite zir blush.

“Ahh, no,” Gabriel grunted.

“You’ve picked a razzer complicated one, pal. It’ll take longer to take care of it.” Beelzebub sounded a lot like a cosmetologist talking to a guest about the difficult hair color/cut combination they picked out. “But I can help you wizz it.”

“I don’t need your help with anything, Demon. I’ll just put it away,” Gabriel said. He held very still for a moment, but Beelzebub felt no change in his Effort.

“Having problemz?”

“No! I just. Can’t focus on it.”

“Mhm. Lay on your back, I’ll take care of thiz.”

Gabriel started to argue, but Beelzebub pushed him over so that he was lying on the ground. Gabriel laid in stunned silence while Beelzebub moved him into position. Gabriel was laying on his side with Beelzebub curled behind him. The part of Gabriel’s brain that was a Mighty Archangel of Heaven protested against a Prince of Hell moving him around like this, but there was another part of his brain that _liked it_. It was small and hidden, but it was _loud_ and insisted that he _stay put_.

Beelzebub pulled Gabriel’s leg up over zir hip, again moving zir hand down to push against Gabriel’s Effort. Gabriel whined and pushed against the hand.

“Zzhh, I’ve got you, Archangel. You like zzis, don’t you? What a _bad angel_ you are,” Beelzebub breathed in Gabriel’s ear.

Gabriel keened, and Beelzebub put zir other hand over his mouth.

“No, zilenze. Be quiet. You don’t want you little underling inside to hear you, do you? Do you want your Angelz to know zzat you’ve submitted to a Prince of Hell?”

Gabriel shook his head and worked very hard to stay very quiet. Beelzebub slipped zir hand under Gabriel’s leggings and the feel of zir warm hand against Gabriel’s organ grinder (so to speak) almost made him discorporate.

The new experience of kissing and grinding had flooded Gabriel’s basement, so to speak. Beelzebub’s fingers easily slid around Gabriel’s bits. Zey located his bean, and got to flickin’.

Gabriel moaned into Beelzebub’s hand and arched his back, pushing his manhole (fun fact, manholes and manhole covers have existed since about 3500 B.C.!), so to speak, against the hand torturing him.

When Beelzebub pushed a finger inside Gabriel, the Angel felt some of his wings straining against his form. He took a deep breath to calm down his six extra limbs, but then Beelzebub added a second digit and got a spectacular rhythm going. With two fingers probing the psyche (so to speak) and another dotting the i (so to speak), Beelzebub worked Gabriel until he cracked his marbles (so to speak) with a loud grunt, a spasm of muscles, and a little wave of energy that cracked the rock they were hiding behind.

Gabriel lay panting in the grass, looking up at the stars. He was sweaty, which was weird, and he felt sore from laying on the ground, which was weird, but he felt absolutely amazing otherwise. He turned to look at Beelzebub, who was licking zir fingers clean. Gabriel turned bright red.

“You could just magic it away, you know,” he said.

Beelzebub shrugged. “Don’t care. Taztez good.” Then zey also turned bright red and jammed zir face into the grass.

Gabriel watched Beelzebub, who seemed to be trying to be absorbed into the ground. He cleared his throat, and zey looked up at him.

“Can I help you?” Beelzebub asked.

“Well, um, shouldn’t I reciprocate? Isn’t that the polite thing to do?” Gabriel asked, trying to sound casual and business like, and not like he was an inch away from throwing up, bursting into flame, crying, laughing, and screaming all at the same time. Damn, emotions are weird and also stupid.

A fat, lethargic fly flew out from inside Beelzebub’s tunic. It slowly buzzed around before landing on Gabriel’s shoulder. Beelzebub struck like a snake, grabbing the fly and swallowing it.

“You wouldn’t know what you’d be doing!” Zey growled, which isn’t very threatening when you have a fly escape your attempt at swallowing it.

Gabriel sat up and glared down at Beelzebub. “I’m the Archangel Gabriel, and you don’t think I know how to do,” he waved his hand around vaguely, “ _that_?”

“ _Zzat_? Itz zex, you dope. And I bet you zuck at it,” Beelzebub challenged, a peculiar glint in zir eyes. Gabriel thought it looked the way Aziraphale’s eyes look when he sees food.

Gabriel leaned down over Beelzebub. “I bet I’m better than you are.”

Beelzebub glared back up at Gabriel. “Alright, _Archangel Gabriel_. Prove it.”

Gabriel rolled Beelzebub over so zey were on zir back, and reached down zir leggings to find a bald-headed giggle stick (so to speak, of course). He looked back at Beelzebub, who had zir eyes shut. Tentatively, he gave Beelzebub’s crotch cannon (so to speasdhasdbhrrbjvnjnwdj van e94832340192389144Sorry, the individual in charge of parenthetical has been fired.) a little stroke, to which zey gasped. Encouraged, Gabriel moved his hand some more, listening to the sounds of Beelzebub’s gasps and buzzes to know what to do. Fortunately for Gabriel, a deep-veined purple-helmeted spartan of love is rather easy to please. He touched the wet bit at the tip bit and spread that around the long bit.

Beelzebub finally, _finally_ moaned when Gabriel did that, and hearing it sent shocks of pleasure rolling through his gut. Gabriel sped up his motions until Beelzebub was panting and whimpering beneath him. He felt Beelzebub’s body tense up, and zir one-eyed wrinkle-necked trouser trout _ejakulieren_. Beelzebub covered zir mouth to muffle zir scream.

Gabriel pulled his hand out of zir pants and miracled them both clean. “So?”

“Hmph. Z’alright,” Beelzebub mumbled through zir hand.

Gabriel scooped zem up and pulled zem onto his lap, leaning against the cracked rock. “Well, now we have an official pact, and we’re both tired, and our agents are probably sleeping or something stupid like that. So how about we just rest until morning?”

Beelzebub buzzed in thought. “I zuppoze, yeah.” Zey nuzzled zir face into Gabriel’s shoulder, and Gabriel leaned his head back against the rock.

———————————————————————————————————————

Aziraphale spent the night feeling very weird. The specific phenomenon of seeing your teacher at the grocery store or at a concert and its feeling of weirdness hadn’t been invented yet, but Aziraphale was feeling it. He felt it while he got dressed, and he felt it when he was preparing breakfast, and he especially felt it when Crowley knocked on his door.

“They’ve been behind that rock all night,” He whispered furiously in Crowley’s ear when he opened the door.

“So? We knew they were watching us all day,” Crowley said, gesturing for Aziraphale to walk with him.

“Okay, watching is one thing, but they were definitely having sex last night.”

Crowley stopped in the middle of the road. “I beg your _fucking_ pardon?”

“They thought they were hidden behind that stupid rock, but it only covered them when they were squatting behind it, not when they were _laying in the grass_. And my walls are thin! I heard them! There was so much buzzing, Crowley, it was awful!” Aziraphale clutched Crowley’s arm like he was going to faint.

“Really, angel, it’ss not like it’ss the firsst time you’ve heard sex soundss,” Crowley said.

“It’s the first time I’ve heard them from our bosses, my dear.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s weird.”

Aziraphale heard a branch break behind them and turned to look. Sure enough, he saw Gabriel and Beelzebub darting behind a building as fast as they could.

“They’re still following, too, so we better make this a good show.”

“Don’t you worry, angel, I found us a witch,” Crowley said, beaming.

“Oh, splendid.”

———————————————————————————————————————

Beelzebub and Gabriel followed Aziraphale and Crowley into the woods. The Bureaucrats transformed themselves into insects. Beelzebub into a [timber fly](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pantophthalmidae), and Gabriel into a red-spotted purple b[utterfly](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limenitis_arthemis). Beelzebub-the-fly and Gabriel-the-butterfly alighted on a branch above Aziraphale and Crowley, who were standing with a human woman at what appeared to be a stone altar.

“What do you zzink zzey’re doing now?” Beelzebub asked in fluent Insect.

“Don’t know. Try to hear,” said Gabriel, who’s Insect was rusty.

The human woman, who had a rather large and powerful aura, raised her arms and started speaking.

“It is I, the holy vessel of the great goddess Freya, lady of love, marriage, and cats!”

Beelzebub looked at Gabriel, who shrugged and said, “Don’t look at me. Don’t decide if other gods are here or not.” Beelzebub made a mental note to tutor Gabriel in his Insect.

“Frey, you naughty twin brother of mine! God of sex and fertility!” The woman continued, “I know that you try to leave Vanaheim to spread your sexual mischief! You wish to tempt humans to lust! Heaven and Hell cannot have this!”

“Oh, woe, if the god Frey manages to tempt all the humans of the world to sin, Heaven will lose all of those dear, dear humans to eternal torment!” Lamented Aziraphale, dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead.

“And if Frey does that, so many Demons will be out of a job! Think of all the chaos, all of the paperwork that will go into putting them in new departments! We can’t have it!” Crowley cried, shaking a fist at the sky.

“We are here, goddess, Angel, and Demon, just as we were _twenty years ago in Scandinavia_ to perform a sacred ceremony to weaken Frey! A sacred marriage between two celestial beings from opposing sides, a matrimony so powerful that it will nullify the extramarital sexual power that Frey uses to try to come to this world!” The human woman, “Freya”, said.

“Gabriel, zzey’re getting married!” Beelzebub shrieked, getting ready to fly down to bite someone, anyone.

“Hold, Beelz! You heard Freya!” Gabriel said, waving his antennae in Beelzebub’s face. “Think of paperwork!”

Beelzebub paused. Zey hated doing paperwork.

Suddenly, a wind started rustling through the trees, and there was a flash of lightning.

“ **You dare to try to stop me, sister?!** ” A voice screamed on the wind.

“It’s him, Frey! We must hurry! Quick, join hands!”

Aziraphale and Crowley grabbed each other’s hands, facing each other.

“Do you Aziraphale take Crowley as your husband and partner in this Arrangement?”

“Yes, I do,” Aziraphale said, sounding panicky.

“And do you Crowley take Aziraphale as your husband and partner in this Arrangement?”

“Yess, yess, yess, get on with it, pleassssse,” Crowley hissed.

“Then in the power given to me as a goddess, I pronounce you husbands and partners until my immortal life ends! Now quickly, kiss each other before he breaks through!” Freya yelled as the wind picked up furiously, carrying a furious scream with it.

Beelzebub and Gabriel gripped their branch as tight as they could to keep from falling off from how strong the wind had gotten. Aziraphale and Crowley had to fight against the push of the wind to close the foot wide gap between them.

They kissed, and there was one last awful scream, and then the wind died.

“We did it, we stopped him! Thank you, Aziraphale, Crowley,” Freya breathed in relief.

“Absolutely, happy to help!” Aziraphale said brightly.

“Yeah, course,” Crowley murmured.

They shook hands, then walked off in opposite directions.

Beelzebub and Gabriel looked at each other. “Well zzat zeemz to check out.”

“Yes, would agree.”

“Until next time zzen?” Beelzebub said, rather professionally and disappointed.

“Next time,” agreed Gabriel, also professionally and disappointed.

———————————————————————————————————————

Later that evening, Aziraphale and Crowley sat in Aziraphale’s house. They were sitting on the couch, drinking wine, which had started off as tea. Aziraphale had his tunic undone a button, and Crowley was wearing nothing except one of Aziraphale’s tunics, which was much larger than Crowley’s tunics, and Aziraphale was trying very hard not to stare too much.

“Angel, do you have any idea how lucky we are that our bosses are extremely stupid?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, yes, quite lucky. This whole ordeal has been rather stressful, I’d say. And right after we’ve decided to start cooperating in our work, too,” Aziraphale said, accidentally zeroing in on a freckle on Crowley’s thigh.

Aziraphale didn’t know why he was being so weird about Crowley being in a state of undress. They had literally _just finished_ consummating their most recent marriage. Maybe it was Crowley wearing a piece of Aziraphale’s clothing that had him so flustered. He didn’t have much more time to think about it before Crowley yawned and repositioned so he was lying with his head in Aziraphale’s lap.

Aziraphale willed his heartbeat to slow down and gazed down at Crowley. His glasses were gone, and his eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and even.

“Are you going to sleep, dear boy?” Aziraphale’s asked, brushing some hair away from Crowley’s eyes.

“Yeah, think so. I’m pretty tired, angel,” Crowley said with another yawn.

“So you’re going to sleep on the couch?”

“It’ssss where you are,” Crowley whispered, “Wanna be with you.”

He was so quiet and so heavy that Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he was talking in his sleep or not, but Aziraphale smiled despite the stab in his chest. Crowley might put on a show, but he really didn’t like being alone.

Feeling bold, Aziraphale bundled Crowley into his arms and carried him over to the corner where the bed was. Aziraphale tucked Crowley in, and brushed his fingers across the Demon’s cheek fondly.

Crowley stayed asleep, but his hand reached up and grabbed Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale smiled sadly, and decided to sit next to Crowley all night while he slept. He’d most likely be off to his own residence the next morning, and Aziraphale wanted to soak up as much of him as he could. This was the fourth time they’d been married, but they never stayed in the same house for very long afterwards. It broke Aziraphale’s heart, knowing that he’d professed his love to Crowley so many times under the guise of acting, but now they had the Arrangement, so they’d be seeing each other a lot more often now.

Aziraphale supposed that could be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can blame my qpp for some of the ridiculousness in this chapter.


	5. Pride: Exaggerated Self Esteem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley spends two years on a pirate island without Aziraphale’s supervision and goes completely feral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me @ me while writing: Oh, so you’re like horny horny.

**1645**

Tortuga was a nice little island, in Crowley’s opinion. It’s 69 square miles in size, anyone taken there as slaves were free, and it was the central hub of Caribbean piracy. It was inhabited by former indentured servants searching for a better life, freed slaves, sex workers, and people who dared to love people of the same gender. The alcohol was ever flowing, the music was always going, everyone hated the monarchies, and democracy was everywhere. Crowley loved it.

Crowley was technically there to mess with the new governor. Tortuga was currently controlled by France, and they had assigned Jean Le Vasseur as the governor. The people of Tortuga rather liked their new governor, as with his appointment, Tortuga became the pirating capital of the Caribbean. Hell, much like the not-yet-established Central Intelligence Agency, hated it when people liked their political leaders, so Crowley was sent to stir up dissent against Vasseur, who was living like a buccaneering king.

However, Crowley, by modern standards, was very gay and a sucker for the romance of pirating. He’d been there for a few years, and hadn’t done much. If anything, he moved in and made himself at home. He had a ship and everything.

He woke up one morning with a hangover which wasn’t unusual these days. He took a deep breath and imagined himself NOT having a hangover. He stood up and stretched, realizing as he did so that he was completely in the nude.

“Hm,” Crowley said to himself, looking around his cabin for his clothes, which he vaguely remembered throwing somewhere. He got black trousers off the back of a chair and was finishing putting them on when he heard a groan from his bed.

Crowley stiffened and looked behind him from where the sound came from. A naked human man with curly blonde hair was sleeping amongst the blankets.

“Oh, for Satan’s sake,” Crowley grumbled to himself. _Not again_.

He snapped his fingers, sending the man to his own bed, in his own home. Crowley rubbed his face with his hands, hoping he hadn’t said anything the night before that could get him in trouble like _“hey, baby, I’m a literal actual demon and your hair reminds me of the literal actual angel I’m in love with, wanna go back to my place and bone?”_ Crowley continued to bemoan his own dumbassery while he slipped into his sandals, while he put on a white shirt that he only buttoned halfway, while he tied a red sash around his waist, while he tied up his tangled, shoulder length hair, while he stroked his awful little mustache, while he put on his red cape, up until he slid his glasses on, covering up his yellow eyes.

Crowley pulled his round, black hat onto his head and sauntered out of his cabin. His ship was tied up at the docks, and despite it being fully functional and staffed, it had never left its spot. His crew had never seen combat while under his command, but they still found themselves with plenty of plunder and booty, with no idea how they got it. There were always people begging Captain Crowley for permission to join his crew. Crowley would just laugh, tell them he had no openings in his crew, and saunter away.

Some people theorized that maybe Captain Crowley was being paid off by some kind of sea demon to never set sail again. He was particularly fond of this rumor. In reality, Crowley just didn’t really feel like sailing and plundering ships. He also didn’t know how ships actually worked, and if anyone had bothered to look closely at Crowley’s ship, _The Foul Serpent of Damnation_ , they’d notice that it had no rudder. This was because Crowley had never seen the parts of a ship that were under water. The wheel was attached to nothing, and if anyone else were to try to steer _The Foul Serpent of Damnation_ , it just wouldn't turn, because sailors know how ships work. But the two times that Crowley actually sailed the damn thing it worked, because he assumed it would.

Crowley strutted down the gangplank and made his way to the nearest tavern. Then he stopped, thinking that he was probably there the day before, and altered his course to go to the second nearest tavern.

The tavern was like any other tavern. Big fire in one corner, bar, benches, lots of drinking, cards being played, et cetera. Crowley dropped himself into a chair at a table off to the side, nodding at the kid that brought him a rum bottle and a glass. He tossed his hat onto the table and was about to pour himself a drink when a man landed in the seat across from him, grinning like a madman.

“Hey, C.C., mate, how’re ya this fine morning?” The man asked.

Crowley took a deep breath through his nose, and took a drink straight from the bottle. “John, I’ve told you not to call me that, now what do you want?”

John, a brunette fellow with eyes that said “I will do the exact opposite of everything anyone says” leaned back in his chair. “Alright, C.C., whatever ya say. Listen, did ya see the French ships that just landed?”

“No,” Crowley said, not particularly caring about French ships.

“They’re full of prostitutes,” John said, casually.

Crowley put his rum down. “Explain.”

John’s grin turned wide. He knew that Crowley paid good money for interesting tidbits from the comings and goings on the island. Not that he knew it, but most of what was in Crowley’s reports to Hell came from John.

“I heard that the governor asked the French government to send over as many sex workers as they could find. Has it in his mind that by bringing more women to Tortuga will make the menfolk here abandon piracy and settle down.” John paused. “He’s also hoping it’ll end matelotage.”

Crowley snorted. Matelotage was marriage in all but name, and he knew for a damn fact that many of the men here came specifically for the ability to marry another man, and bringing women to the island wasn’t going to change that.

“That’s not going to work, John. Not even remotely.” Especially if Crowley was around to cause mischief.

“I never said it would, mate, just said that that’s what the governor thinks. But the French soldiers have been escorting the women and helping get them settled all morning.” John’s eyes got a particularly bastardly glint in them as Crowley took a drink. “One of them is your type, C.C., chubby, blonde curls, the works.”

Crowley spat rum all over John.

“Pbt, ngk, you idiot!”

John blinked innocently.

“Yeah, mate?”

“I _do not_ have a _type_ , you jackassssss!” Crowley hissed, crankily.

“Sure ya do,” John insisted.

“I do not!”

“Ya do.”

“Not!”

“Do!”

“Not!”

“Everyone knows, Crowley,” John said.

Crowley froze. _Everyone knows, Crowley_. The only thing he feared.

“Everyone knows what?”

“That ya like blondes,” John said, looking confused at Crowley’s sudden change in tone.

Crowley let go of the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. That’s fine then, he supposed. Plenty of people liked blondes. Absolutely nothing to worry about here, absolutely ship-shape.

Movement out of the corner of Crowley’s eye had him looking over to the door, where stood-

_Oh, fucking hell._

At the door stood Aziraphale.

He was wearing red pants and a red shirt that was open and exposing more inches of Aziraphale’s chest than Crowley had ever seen in public. He had on a pair of sturdy brown boots, and a long blue jacket was slung over his arm. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was removing a bandana from his head, exposing all those lovely curls.

Crowley gulped.

John followed the angle of Crowley’s head, and nearly jumped out of his seat. “That’s him! The sailor I was telling ya about! You’re staring right at him!”

Crowley picked up his hat and swatted John with it. “He’s not chubby, oaf!”

Hat still in hand, Crowley launched out of his chair and marched over to the Angel. As well as one can march when one is wearing sandals, of course.

Aziraphale looked at him and had just enough time to recognize the Demon barreling at him before Crowley grabbed his arm and pulled him upstairs, ignoring the encouraging whoops from John.

Crowley dragged Aziraphale to an empty room and locked the door.

“I’m pleased to see you too, Crowley, but there’s no need to pull me around like that!” Aziraphale complained.

Crowley pushed down the shiver that almost started at the sound of his name, and did his best to glare at the Angel. “What the hell are you doing here, angel, this is a _pirate_ town.”

“Well, yes, I know, dear boy. That’s why I’m here!”

Crowley’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What?”

“I’m supposed to be helping end the piracy and turn this into a law-abiding settlement,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley sighed. Of course that was why Aziraphale was here. “I’m here to spread political dissent. I guess we didn’t plan this one out very well, did we?” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh well.”

Aziraphale’s hand darted suddenly to the right side of Crowley’s face, and for a brief moment he thought- _hoped_ -that Aziraphale was going to touch his face, but then he felt a tug on his ear, and a stab of pleasure hit Crowley at the base of his spine.

“Crowley, when did you pierce your ear?” Aziraphale exclaimed.

Oh yeah, his earring. He’d all but forgotten about the gold hoop in his ear until Aziraphale was touching it. Was still touching it.

“Uh, ab-about two years ago. Day I got here,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale used his other hand to grab Crowley’s chin so he could turn his head to look at his left ear. “Just the one? Why not both?”

Crowley had a hard time thinking with Aziraphale’s hands on him so casually. “It’ss uh, the sstyle.”

“Oh, I see,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “I should get some, too!”

Crowley imagined Aziraphale with earrings and then was surprised to find himself nodding. “Yeah, I mean, if you want to, sure.

“Excellent! How do I get one?” Aziraphale said, finally letting go of Crowley’s face and ear.

“I have some stuff at my ship, we can do it there,” Crowley suggested.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in excitement, rather like a puppy. “I would ever so like to see your ship, Crowley dear.” He looped his arm through Crowley’s and gestured for him to go right along then.

Crowley sighed dramatically and led ~~his~~ the Angel downstairs and down the road. During the walk, Crowley took the time to point out landmarks and interesting places, which Aziraphale found delightful.

Crowley focused on Aziraphale’s smile and laugh instead of the pointed glances from people walking past that he knew. Apparently, John was right when he said that people knew he liked blondes.

_Not all blondes. Just the one. If he had brown hair, I’d like brunettes, I’m sure._

Crowley’s ship soon came into view and Crowley puffed his skinny chest up as he flourished his arm at his ship.

“I present to you, _The Foul Serpent of Damnation_!” Crowley crowed.

Aziraphale daintily covered his mouth with his hand to cover his smirk. “Yes, dear, but what’s the ship’s name?”

Crowley sputtered and spat in a very undignified, very uncool way. Aziraphale laughed and walked up the gangplank, leaving Crowley looking rather like a dying fish.

“Come on, dear, we have ears to pierce!” Aziraphale yelled from on the ship.

Shaking himself out of his fish impression, Crowley bounded up the gangplank and onto the deck of his ship. Aziraphale was already surrounded by some curious, sweaty, slightly grimy sailors.

Aziraphale, with his pristine appearance and effeminate way of standing and speaking, looked like a scene out of an obscene novel surrounded by all those rugged pirates. Crowley jumped when one of his crewmen took Aziraphale’s hand and he all but teleported over to the group, coughing very loudly. The crew dissipated as quickly as they came, leaving Aziraphale looking at Crowley incredulously.

“Are we upset when we’re not the center of everyone’s attention, dear boy?” Aziraphale said, pursing his lips.

“N-no! Angel, those are _pirates_ on a _Demon’s_ _pirate ship_ ,” Crowley whispered. “Do you have any sense of self preservation?”

“Oh, you worrywort. I can take care of myself just fine. And I have nothing to fear when you’re so close.” Aziraphale smiled and Crowley was very glad of his sunglasses in that moment because he could swear that Aziraphale stored his halo in his lips, and if he looked for too long he’d go blind.

Crowley stared anyway.

He must’ve stared for too long, though, because Aziraphale cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Ah, right, um, this way, angel,” Crowley said, heading towards his cabin. Crowley got to his room first, and quickly stuck his tongue out so he could take in more scent than his human nose. Drawing his tongue back in and against that sensitive spot in his mouth, he grimaced at the state of his quarters. Usually very clean and organized, Crowley had gotten a bit lazy the past couple of years. Clothes were hanging off of every conceivable hangable surface, empty bottles were strewn across the floor, and an open chest sat on its side in the corner, spilling its contents all over the place. The whole place smelled like booze, armpits, and...yup, thats sex!

Crowley had enough time to get rid of the smell and most of the empty bottles before Aziraphale entered the cabin.

Crowley spun around, hand messing with his hair. “Ah, sorry about the mess, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale tutted. “It’s quite alright, Crowley.” And then he sat on the messy bed. On Crowley’s messy bed. Crowley’s bed. Bed. That is Crowley’s.

_Calm down you idiot._

“Uh, can I take your coat?” _‘Can I take your coat???????’ Who the fuck do you think you are? A butler? You’re an evil Demon!_

“Yes please, dear,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley took the coat. _Maybe an evil butler._

He hung up the coat, and his own cape and hat. He ignored the Angel now lounging languidly in his bed, and dug through the various cabinets around his cabin. His arms full, he returned to the bed and sat down, dumping all the stuff he’d grabbed between him and Aziraphale. There was a couple dusty bottles of rum, two sewing needles, a candle, some matches, a clean cloth, a potato, and an assortment of earrings.

“I uh, I think this is one of those things we should do the human way, angel,” Crowley said, just above a whisper.

Aziraphale’s eyes snapped up at Crowley as if he had said something dirty, then looked at the items on the bed, seemed to understand what had been said, and nodded.

“Do you want one ear, or both?”

“Both, please,” Aziraphale said, equally quietly.

Crowley gestured to the pile of earrings. “Pick some out while I get ready.”

Aziraphale started rummaging through the jewelry, and Crowley set the candle on a nearby crate that he sometimes used as a side table. He splashed a little bit of rum on the needles, and wiped them off with the cloth. He lit the candle and set one of the needles aside. Crowley held the remaining needle in the flame until the tip glowed just a bit. Then he pulled it out of the fire and turned back to Aziraphale, who was watching him rather anxiously.

Crowley pushed his glasses on top of his head so he could see better. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Aziraphale sat up straight, and huffed. “It’s just a little poke! I want an earring!”

Crowley smirked. Aziraphale wanted something, and what Aziraphale wanted, Aziraphale got.

“Come here then, angel,” Crowley said, letting just a little bit of silk leak into his words.

Aziraphale slid over until he was sitting between Crowley’s knees. Crowley had Aziraphale hold the needle for him while he used some alcohol to ensure that his ear was clean. Then he took the needle back and picked up the potato, positioning it behind Aziraphale’s ear. Crowley set the still hot tip of the needle close to Aziraphale’s ear.

“This is going to sssting.”

“Alright,” Aziraphale whispered, gripping the fabric of Crowley’s pants.

Crowley took a deep breath, then pulled the needle back like he was playing darts, and slammed it back down, feeling it slice through flesh and stick into the potato.

Aziraphale jumped. “Ah!” He cried.

Crowley instinctively released the needle and cupped Aziraphale’s face. “It’s alright, I’m here, angel.”

Aziraphale put a hand over Crowley’s, and took a shuddering breath. “It’s just fine, dear boy. I’ve definitely had worse.”

“Are you _sure_?” Crowley asked, not bothering to mask his worry.

Aziraphale looked Crowley in the eye, then gently, painfully gently, kissed the inside of his wrist. “Yes, please continue.”

Crowley’s whole body got hot, and he wanted nothing more than to stay there in hopes of more kisses to his hand but he took it back anyway so he could finish piercing Aziraphale’s ears.

“The first earring please.” Crowley held out his hand.

Aziraphale gave him a simple gold hoop, much like his own large one, but smaller. This one would be like a cuff around his earlobe.

Crowley pulled the potato, which pulled the needle through Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale hissed, and Crowley couldn’t help but cheat and use a little magic to relieve the pain. When the needle came out, Crowley slipped the earring in and clasped it shut.

“How does it look?” Aziraphale asked.

“You look like a pirate, now, angel.” Crowley smirked.

Aziraphale playfully swatted Crowley’s leg with the hand that had been holding his pants, and then left it there on his thigh.

Crowley blushed, and put the needle on the crate, putting the second one in the fire. “Turn around so I can get at your other ear.” Aziraphale obliged, removing his hand from Crowley’s thigh.

But then he pulled Crowley’s other leg onto his lap. So now Crowley had one leg over the side of the bed, foot resting on the ground, and one in Aziraphale’s lap, and they were very close and he was definitely _just fine_.

The second ear was faster, and the tiger eye jasper stud that Aziraphale picked out was soon sitting in his ear in no time. As soon as it was in, Aziraphale jumped up to look in Crowley’s mirror, and if Crowley admired the Angel’s ass while he did so, well who am I to judge, have you seen it? Damn.

“Oh, they look marvelous, Crowley! You did a wonderful job!” Aziraphale cried gleefully, spinning around.

Crowley snapped his eyes up to Aziraphale’s. “All I did was stab needles through your ears. If you think it looks so good, it’s because you already did. Ehhhhhhh, look good, that isssss, uhh, yeah.”

Aziraphale turned a fantastic shade of red. Crowley swallowed and looked frantically around the room for a distraction. _Ah ha!_

“You try rum yet, angel?” Crowley asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“Eh, no, dear boy, I have not,” Aziraphale answered, fiddling with one of his ears.

Crowley jumped up and searched around for a couple of bottles that still had liquid in them.

“You’ve just got to try it, Aziraphale. You’ll like it.” Crowley swirled the bottle invitingly.

“Oh, alright,” said Aziraphale, taking the bottle and pulling out the stopper. “Do you have glasses?”

“Nope!” Crowley grabbed the cork in his bottle with his teeth, pulled it out, spat the cork on the floor, and took a swig straight from the bottle.

A massive wave of lust, almost strong enough to knock him over, hit Crowley square in the chest.

Crowley lowered the bottle and looked at Aziraphale. The Angel was standing very still, looking rather dumbfounded at Crowley. He didn’t look any different than any other time Crowley did something uncouth. Surely the lust hadn’t come from _him_. Crowley decided that it must’ve come from somewhere else.

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to drink.

Aziraphale looked at the slightly grimy bottle and grimaced. Then he placed it to his lips and took a drink. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Oh! That’s quite good!” Another drink. “It tastes like maple!”

Crowley grinned. “It’s stored and transported in maple barrels, and it infuses the rum with that mapley flavor.” He took a drink. “It’s the preferred drink here.”

“Oh yes, I can see why. Very good.” Aziraphale sat back down next to Crowley on the bed, drinking more of the rum.

An hour and several bottles later, Aziraphale was sitting on the floor and Crowley was hanging upside down off the bed. Aziraphale’s shirt was completely unbuttoned, and Crowley’s was just gone.

“I’m jus’ saying,” Aziraphale was just saying, “how _exactly_ can you call yourself a pirate if you, you, you have never done any _actual_ pirating?”

“Becausssse uhhhh,” Crowley said, very smartly, “I have a ship!”

“Having a ship does not a pirate make, dear,” Aziraphale said sagely.

Crowley squinted at Aziraphale. “Well, I have a ship, and a crew, and I live on a pirate island. What would you call me, angel?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, making a little kissy face while he thought. Crowley stared at him, wanting very much to kiss him.

“I have no idea,” Aziraphale finally said. “Hey, d-do you want to play a game?”

Crowley rolled over so he was laying on his stomach. “Sssssure, what kind of game?”

“It’s called Questions and Commands. We go back and forth, and on each of our turns we pick either Questions or Commands, and depending on which we pick, the other tells us what to do. So say, if I pick Questions, you ask me a question and I have to answer truthfully, and if you picked Commands, then I tell you to do something and you have to do it. School children play it a lot, and I think it would be quite fun!” Aziraphale explained, only slurring a little bit.

“What if we don’t want to answer the questions or follow the command?” Crowley asked.

“Well, you have to, but I suppose if you really, really don’t want to, then you have to finish your whole bottle!” Aziraphale said, grinning.

“Hm, alright, that’sss fair.”

“Of course it is! You can go first, dear boy. Questions or Commands?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley thought for a second. If he picked Questions, Aziraphale would probably ask him something related to feelings and he definitely did not want that. “Commands.”

“Ok, come sit in front of me and let me brush your hair, it's an absolute mess!”

Crowley choked, and momentarily considered finishing his drink, but didn’t think it would be very sporting to refuse in the first round. Especially on something as tame as hair brushing. “Alright.” He rolled off the bed onto the floor, and crawled over to sit in front of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale unbound Crowley’s hair and started pulling his fingers through it, catching several knots.

“When was the last time you brushed your hair, Crowley?” Aziraphale demanded, miracling up a brush.

“Uhhhhhhh,” Crowley answered.

Aziraphale sighed, then started to brush Crowley’s hair, starting at the bottom and working his way up, the best way to remove knots. The brush pulled at Crowley’s scalp a couple of times, but for the most part Aziraphale was very gentle. When he finished brushing, he braided the Demon’s hair and tied it back up.

“There. Doesn’t that feel better?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley gently touched his hair, then nodded. He spun around so that he was facing Aziraphale.

“Questions or Commands?” Crowley asked.

“Questions,” Aziraphale said, putting down the brush.

“Uhh, why did you pick those earrings? I have much fancier ones, angel.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale seemed surprised by this question. “Well, I like your hoop, but didn’t want one that big, so I picked this little hoop.” He looked off to the side.

Crowley tilted his head. “And the topaz?”

Aziraphale locked eyes with Crowley. “I like the color,” He said simply. “Questions or Commands?”

“Commands.”

“Tell me what a matelotage is.”

Crowley blinked and took a drink. “It’s a union between two male pirates. They share property, and uh, sleep together. When one dies in battle, the other gets compensated. Stuff like that.”

“So, its a marriage?” Aziraphale asked, wide eyed.

“I suppossse, yeah.”

“Fascinating. Ok, my turn!” Aziraphale said cheerily, sipping his rum.

“Ok, Questions or Commands?”

“Hmm...Commands!”

Without thinking, Crowley blurted, “Take your shirt off!” And then clamped his hand over his mouth.

Aziraphale stared at him, then glanced at the drink in his hand, then back up to Crowley.

Aziraphale set his bottle on the floor.

Crowley watched him, unsure if his face was warm from alcohol or embarrassment.

Aziraphale unrolled his sleeves, then shrugged off his shirt.

Then, like the absolute bastard he was, Aziraphale put his arms behind him with his palms on the floor, and leaned back with his chin raised.

He kept eye contact with Crowley the whole time.

Crowley drained his bottle.

———————————————————————————————————————

Crowley woke up in a lot of pain. His head hurt, and his limbs hurt, even his closed eyes hurt. He was laying on something very warm, and he felt the sun on his back.The snake in him found that very pleasant, and he shifted to try to get more comfortable. As he did so, he felt a part of the warm thing wrap around him.

Startled, his eyes flew open and he looked around.

He was outside, looking at his ship, which he found peculiar. And the warm thing he was laying on was Aziraphale, and the warm thing wrapped around him was Aziraphale’s arm, and neither of them had shirts on, and were they laying in the grass?

Crowley sat up and shook Aziraphale. The Angel woke up, then grabbed his head, groaning.

“Oh, Crowley, my head! How much did we drink? What happened?” He looked around. “Why are we laying in grass?”

“I don’t know, angel.” Crowley looked around, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he come face to face with John, who was sitting a few feet away, watching them.

“What the hell, John? What the fuck are you doing?” Crowley yelled, startling Aziraphale, who sat up.

“Well, C.C., mate, ya and your pal were drinking all day yesterday and all night last night!”

Aziraphale coughed, then groaned in pain.

“Ya came out of ya cabin in the evening and announced to the whole ship that ya were becoming matelots, and insisted that your crew celebrate with ya,” John said.

Crowley squinted against the sunlight. “You’re not part of my crew.”

“Oh, I came later for the party. Someone else told me that part. Anyway, ya drank and drank and danced and all sorts of stuff, and then ya pal decided he wanted a walk, and ya got this far and both passed out. I’ve been watching ya so ya don’t get eaten by dogs.” John smiled proudly.

“Alright, we’re not eaten by dogs, now scat!” Crowley said, making a shooing motion with his hands. John stood up and scurried away.

Crowley laid back down on the ground and covered his eyes with his hands. _Oh fuck I don’t have my glasses on. Everyone probably saw my eyes._ He sighed. At least the rumors might get more interesting.

“I’m too tired to alter so many people’s memories, angel,” Crowley whined.

Aziraphale laid back down, too. “Me as well. If we announced it to everyone on your ship, and made such a big deal about it, we might as well enter this matelotage. Keep up appearances and all that.”

“Satan, we must’ve been drunker than we’ve ever been if we were drinking that long.”

Aziraphale grunted in agreeance, then rolled onto his side and pulled Crowley to his chest.

“What are you doing, angel?” Crowley asked, his lips brushing Aziraphale’s collarbone.

“Mmm, we’re supposed to be hungover newlyweds, Crowley,” Aziraphale said into Crowley’s hair, “so we’re playing the part. And my head hurts too much to remember how to sober up.”

Crowley huffed, and made a weak attempt at escaping, but Aziraphale was very strong, and Crowley’s head hurt, too, and it was awfully comfortable…

“Oh, alright, we can lay here a little longer, angel,” Crowley finally relented, as he always did when it came to Aziraphale. He snaked his arms around Aziraphale’s torso.

“Welcome to the crew, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, sneaking a little bite at Aziraphale’s neck, “You’re a pirate, now!”

Aziraphale shivered, then rolled over so that he was on top of Crowley. “Or you could be pardoned and join the navy with me.”

Crowley blushed at their new position, then his face shifted into Mischief Mode. He leaned up and whispered in Aziraphale’s ear. “They don’t allow matelotage in the navy, angel.” He stuck a forked tongue out, grabbed the little hoop with it, and pulled it. At the same time he rolled his hips up against Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale gasped and then jumped straight up onto his feet.

Crowley looked up at him from the ground, looking confused.

“Crowley, I need pirate clothes!” Aziraphale shouted.

Crowley stared at him, then burst into laughter. He climbed to his feet. “Alright, angel, lets go get you changed,” He said with a saucy wink.

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand.

“We have no time to lose!”

The two took off running towards _The Foul Serpent of Damnation_ , hangovers forgotten in the grass, laughter making their lungs sore.

Aziraphale didn’t get into his pirate clothes for another hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:  
> Firstly, the thing with the governor and the sex workers really did happen, and it didn’t work. It just resulted in a bunch of polyamory.  
> Secondly, the chapters are going to start happening a lot closer together timeline wise, and their reasons for marriage are going to start getting flimsier and flimsier, because they’re just like That.  
> Thirdly, if you’re interested in more information on matelotage, you can visit this website: https://m.ranker.com/list/gay-pirate-marriage/melissa-sartore  
> Inspiration for Crowley’s outfit came from Howard Pyle’s Book of Pirates “The Buccaneer was a statuesque figure”  
> Inspiration for Aziraphale’s outfit came from the cover of this book: https://www.amazon.com/Armies-Wars-Sun-King-1643-1715/dp/1911628607
> 
> @whywouldisayprinter did some really wonderful art based on this please go look at it!!!! AAAAA https://whywouldisayprinter.tumblr.com/post/187794473558/show-chapter-archive


	6. Chastity: Virtuous or Pure From Unlawful Sexual Intercourse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confused Borat voice: My wife?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long! But enjoy!

_**March 6, 1750** _

It was early March in Hannover, Germany. Aziraphale was sitting in a bustling cafe enjoying his breakfast. Not only was he enjoying his food, but he was also eyeing a heavily pregnant woman outside. She had three children with her, two teenagers and a young boy. Her name was Anna, and she would give birth to a girl in exactly ten days. Aziraphale knew this because she was why he was here. He was to bless the baby.

Aziraphale had a brief thought of doing the blessing right then and there. It would be easy. He didn’t need to touch her or even need to go outside. But there was a risk that Anna would absorb the blessing and not her baby, and while Aziraphale definitely wasn’t opposed to blessing the mother, God knew she’d deserve it, but there’d be no way of guaranteeing that her daughter got blessed. No, he’d have to wait for the birth.

But this was another problem. Birth was typically a women-only event. It would be quite the social faux pas for him to try to be present for the birth.

Anna and her children moved on, and Aziraphale quickly paid for his meal and followed them down the street. 

Aziraphale had only two eyes, but he didn’t need them to keep a watch out for the family. All he had to do was cast his awareness out, and he would see that they were okay. So he followed them, but very casually. He stopped to speak to people, and make purchases, and smell some flowers. No one would have guessed that he was tailing someone.

Suddenly there was a light pressure against Aziraphale’s back and a voice whispering in his ear.

“ _What are you up to, angel?_ ” 

Aziraphale’s power seemed to take a bite out of the aura of the person behind him, giving him mental images of the things contained within it in the form of a myriad of colors. Overall, it was many shades of red. Dark red, bright red, cloudy red. Red like fire, like passion, like anger. But there’s other colors. Little dots of forest green are littered about. Blobs of blue try to hide behind massive splotches of gray and black. A ball of gold meanders about, seeming to brighten up when Aziraphale pays attention to it. The aura tastes to Aziraphale like camp smoke, mint, and ice. He turns around.

“ _Crowley_!” He exclaims, trying for exasperated, but coming out airy and wistful.

The only Demon capable of sneaking up on Aziraphale smiles like the serpent he is, toothy and a little dopey.

“I’m worki-what are you wearing, dear boy?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley smirked. “Clothes,” he said obnoxiously.

Crowley was wearing a dress. This, in and of itself, Aziraphale was rather used to. Both of them had worn dresses on and off throughout the years as they so desired. No, Aziraphale was more interested in the _style_ of Crowley’s dress. Crowley was wearing a hoop skirt. Crowley had invented the things back in the 16th century, and hadn’t really shown much interest in them until recently, when they started getting _big_. The specific style the Demon was wearing was called a pannier, which stuck out to the right and the left and stayed flat in the front and back, instead of a full circle. Crowley’s skirts stuck out four or five feet from his hips, and the square neckline seemed to plunge halfway down his [chest](https://www.google.com/search?q=pannier+dress+big&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwiZkfqb_ODlAhUulZ4KHbJKC_MQ2-cCegQIABAC&oq=pannier+dress+big&gs_l=mobile-gws-wiz-img.3...15605.16114..16275...0.0..0.112.409.2j2......0....1.........0j0i30j0i5i30j0i8i30j33i299.M4XnQx2B5Zc&ei=c7TIXdmLO66q-gSyla2YDw&bih=922&biw=768&client=safari&prmd=sinv#imgrc=4RY75YiuR74U4M&imgdii=nGMYpkAMOrP_eM), which he had clearly altered just a smidgen in order to fill it. The dress was black, with red lace and what looked like gold embroidered serpents. His scarlet hair was curled and pinned up in a spectacular updo, and he had a delicate black ribbon around his slender neck. 

Aziraphale pushed aside the thought of touching said neck with his mouth, and cleared his throat. “Yes, I can see that dear. Walk with me?”

Crowley cocked an eyebrow over his small, round sunglasses before looping his arm through Aziraphale’s. His hold was mostly fingers, of course, since his skirts were so big. 

Aziraphale forced himself to not pay attention to how the massive pannier just made Crowley’s saunter more pronounced, made himself ignore how occasionally Crowley’s step made the skirt brush Aziraphale’s leg. 

“You didn’t answer my question, angel. What’re you up to?” Crowley asked.

“I’m following a woman named Anna Herschel. I’m to bless her daughter when she is born,” Aziraphale answered.

“So...you’re stalking? Naughty, angel,” Crowley said, smirking obnoxiously.

“I am _not_ stalking. I’m _observing_ ,” Aziraphale said, grumbling. He was going to lose this one.

“Right, observing. While following her?” 

“Oh...shush. It’s dangerous out there and she's already lost several children. I’m just supposed to bless the baby, but…” Aziraphale chewed on his lip, “I just...wanted to make sure she stayed safe.”

Crowley looked at him thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yeah, I can see your motivation there, angel. Pretty sure it's still stalking, though.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. What are you up to?”

Crowley, who had just “accidentally” bumped into someone with his skirts, grimaced at Aziraphale. “Oh, Aziraphale, you’re not going to like it.”

“Oh I’m going by Ezra Fell while I’m here, dear.”

Crowley’s fingers tightened a little on Aziraphale’s arm. “Yes, well, _Ezra_ , you’re really not going to like why I’m here.”

“Just tell me please.”

“We, er, that is to say, Down There, are going to be uh, _collecting_ Johann Sebastian Bach in a few months.” Crowley scrunched his face up.

“ _Crowley you can’t kill Bach!_ ” Aziraphale explained, panicked.

“Christ, angel, can you say that any louder? I’m not gonna kill him, I just have to make sure he, you know, passes.”

“I don’t suppose you know how it's going to happen, then?”

“Uh, some complications from a medical procedure, I think. I’ll uh, try to make sure he’s comfortable, I promise.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, feeling a flutter of affection coming from his demonic companion. Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. The Angel indulged a passing fantasy that maybe the affection was a sign of something _else_. But alas, Aziraphale never sensed anything further than platonic affection from Crowley. No, the Demon had never felt for Aziraphale what Aziraphale felt for him. Aziraphale took a second to bask in the affection anyway, soaking it in like a dinner roll in leftover soup.

“Angel?” Came Crowley’s voice.

Aziraphale started, and realized that he had stopped walking and had been staring at Crowley for exactly 37 seconds. 

“Oh! I’m afraid I might’ve...just...had a seizure! Yes, a seizure, and I need to sit down for a moment, dear!” Aziraphale declared, dramatically fanning himself and generally making a great big deal about something as trivial as zoning out while fantasizing about your forbidden crush while talking to him. Everybody does it, get over yourself pal.

An elegant eyebrow arched prettily over black glasses. Crowley definitely didn’t believe such an excuse.

Aziraphale bit the inside of his mouth to focus on not flooding the narration with overly sappy and flowery descriptions of Crowley.

Finally, Crowley sighed and rolled his eyes. “Let’s go get a snack,” he said.

They picked up some hot gingerbread from a man selling it on the street. It was quite tasty and Aziraphale finished Crowley’s. They retired to a bench across the street from the Herschel’s house to rest. At some point they had overtaken the family, but Mrs. Herschel and the children would be around shortly. 

“So I still have no idea how I’m going to get close enough to bless the baby when she’s born!” Aziraphale was saying as he threw away their trash.

“Why can’t you just change your presentation so you look like a woman? Then you could probably get in as a midwife, easy peasy,” Crowley suggested.

“I’m already rather established in the community here as a man, so I’m afraid it’s too late to do so.”

“Hmm,” Crowley hummed to himself. 

Aziraphale felt a rather selfish idea start to blossom in his mind.

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale began.

“Hm? Yes, angel?” 

“You’re presenting as a woman at the moment, yes?”

“Uhh, I suppose.”

“What do you mean, you suppose?” Aziraphale asked.

“Am I wearing clothes marketed to women? Yes, I am doing that. I am not, however, currently a woman at this time. I am not presenting as a woman, angel, I’m presenting as me,” Crowley declared, waving his hand around passionately.

“What I meant is will a human on this street look at you and read you as a feminine being because of the meaning and gender assigned by this society to specific styles of fabrics? They would, dear. Stop being purposely obtuse, I can always tell what you’re doing with your gender.” Aziraphale could sense it in Crowley’s aura, but if you were to ask him how he does this, he would blush and suddenly start babbling about _Gulliver’s Travels_.

If you were to try to explain to him that you can’t see the words a person uses to describe their gender _in their aura_ he would simply _tut tut tut_ and say that you’ll understand when you’re older and that would be the end of the conversation. 

But that is unimportant. _What_ is important is Aziraphale currently trying to convince Crowley to visit Anne Herschel as a midwife and do the blessing for him. 

“Please, dear? I’ll owe you a favor! I promise!” Aziraphale said, whispering as a group of school children were marched past. 

Crowley’s eyes were still covered but, from the way his eyebrows were scooting about, Aziraphale could tell that they were wide with interest. “A favor, you say?” Crowley purred, sliding his arm along the back of the bench until he was pressing rather indecently against Aziraphale.

_Of course, now you remove the panniers_ , Aziraphale thought, using a miracle to make it impossible for humans to see or hear them, and not quite sure why.

He must’ve sensed that they were invisible, because Crowley immediately started touching Aziraphale more purposefully.

Ah, yeah, _that_. That was a new Amendment to the Arrangement. They had discovered, from their years of observation, that people can become almost starved from lack of touch. Almost as if they need it to live. 

Angels and Demons don’t need anything to live. They don’t need food or sleep or drinks or weather appropriate clothing in order to stay alive, but Aziraphale and Crowley both craved those things, and felt that their lives were better with those things. So when they had noticed that humans seemed to thrive best when they’re able to touch each other freely and innocently, they wanted to see if skin-to-skin helped Ethereal (“Occult,” “Oh, no dear, it’s Ethereal.”) beings they way it helped humans, so they had spent a whole week holding hands to see if it made them feel better. It _did_ , very much. Neither of them talked about it. Consciously, of course.

Aziraphale sucked in a lungful of air. He wasn’t quite sure what either of them were doing. They were very good at following the changes in acceptable public touches, and this, right now, or ever, was probably not what one would call _acceptable for the public_. 

Crowley wrapped himself around Aziraphale like the Angel was some healer god’s stick. His cold hands were slipping past Aziraphae’s buttons to touch warm skin. Once Crowley had put his body in a comfortable position partially on Aziraphale’s lap, he went completely limp.

Aziraphale put his arms around Crowley and held him tight, unsure of how to proceed.

_Maybe he feels bad about Bach? How sweet of him to care so much!_ Aziraphale’s heart swelled.

“What uh, what do you want me to do in exchange, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, breathless.

Crowley abruptly sat up and slid to the other side of the bench, panniers magically reappearing in his skirts. Crowley snapped his fingers and the humans were able to notice them again. 

“I’ll just uh...hold on to it for now and cash it in later, yeah?” Crowley said, looking everywhere but Aziraphale. 

“Yes dear, of course. Anytime you wish.”

“So what’s so special about this baby?”

Aziraphale paused for a second to remember. “She is supposed to become an astronomer, I believe.”

Crowley jumped as if pinched, and tried to cover it up by fiddling about with his skirts. “Yeah, I’ll help you, angel.”

“Oh, splendid, dear! You have to go introduce yourself to her today.”

“Ugh, wh- I _guess_ ,” groaned Crowley.

And then Aziraphale was pulling Crowley onto his feet and down the street. They didn’t run, that would be rude. But they did move with purpose, people instinctively moving out of their way. In no time at all they had just about backtracked back to Anna Herschel. Aziraphale steered them into _accidentally_ bumping into Mrs. Herschel. 

After appropriately fretting and apologizing and such, Aziraphale inquired about Anna’s pregnancy. Interestingly enough, she was looking for another midwife, one of the ones she was speaking with had to leave the city to be with family and she needed a replacement.

“What an interesting coincidence! Cr-“ Aziraphale was suddenly gripped with panic. _Shoot, we should’ve come up with a feminine name for Crowley before we did this._ “Uh, Cressida, here, is a midwife!” Aziraphale said, saying the first name that came to mind.

Crowley’s face tried to Grimace Irritably and Smile Temptingly at the same time and for a brief moment looked like some kind of overripe fruit. 

“Yup, midwife, thats me!” Crowley declared.

At that same moment, Aziraphale sensed something foul and stinky not far from them. Crowley stiffened.

“I’ll be right back, angel, I see Ha- uhh, a friend of mine from…church…is just over yonder, I’m going to go ssay hi!” And then Crowley was gone.

“Alright, be safe please, my dear!” Aziraphale called after him. The Angel twiddled his thumbs, and jumped when Anna Herschel started speaking. He’d forgotten she was there.

“I had no idea that you were married, Mr. Fell! Your wife is lovely.”

“M-my wife?” Aziraphale stammered.

Mrs. Herschel’s face started to frown, and Aziraphale had exactly ten thoughts very quickly one after another:

_1\. Mrs. Herschel is talking about Crowley._

_2\. She thinks Crowley is my wife!_

_3\. Wait no now she thinks I was denying it, that he’s not my wife._

_4\. Crowley is not my wife._

_5\. But she heard him call me “angel” and I called him “my dear”!_

_6\. Oh good Lord she thinks Crowley is my mistress._

_7\. I am a man of society, I can’t let people think I have a mistress._

_8\. Definitely won’t be able to bless the baby if I’m shunned._

_9\. I’ll have to fix this._

_10.Got it._

Being an Angel and not a human person, Aziraphale had these ten thoughts before Mrs. Herschel had even blinked. As fast as he was able to think, you’d assume he’d have figured out Crowley was in love with him already, but unfortunately all that extra think time is inhabited almost completely with anxiety. Aziraphale does not know this, or that the way he thinks is peculiar.

“Oh! My _wife_!” Aziraphale chortled. “We’re so newly wed, I’m still getting used to it, haha!” 

Mrs. Herschel’s face took a u-turn and split into a huge smile. “Well, congratulations!”

Aziraphale nodded his head just so, focusing very hard on keeping his blush down.

Crowley rejoined them then, and Mrs. Herschel took one of Crowley’s hands in both of hers.

“Congratulations Mrs. Fell, I’ll be seeing you then!” And then Anna and her children were gone.

“Mrs.? Fell?” Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “What did you _do_?” 

“I’m so sorry, my dear, but she thought you were my illicit lover, and I had to protect my reputation,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley scrunched up his nose and tipped his head back, almost like he was looking at Aziraphale with his nostrils. “I think more people would believe the illicit lover story over just got a wife.”

“ _What_ did you just say?” 

“You heard me.”

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 7, Nine Days Until Herschel Birth** _

Aziraphale and Crowley were in Aziraphale’s home. Crowley was sloppily miracling his clothes off while he hopped off to sit down on a chair. Aziraphale was hanging up his coat and getting them drinks.

Aziraphale entered his sitting room with wine to find Crowley sprawled out on a couch, cradling his bare feet. His shoes, dress, and pannier were across the room, which was apparently as far as Crowley could miracle things at the moment. His feet were reddish-pink and lightly blistered. Crowley was holding one of his feet in his hands and had his tongue between his teeth, looking rather like a cat about to groom itself.

Aziraphale quickly sat down and took Crowley’s foot from him before he could lick it. 

Let’s freeze for a second. _How did this happen?_ Is probably what you’re thinking.

It had been Crowley’s idea, going to a church. He refused to explain why. Aziraphale insisted that they at least go to a new church, so he wouldn’t burn as much. Because it would burn no matter what, yeah? Yes, consecrated ground is consecrated ground, those toesies were getting hot period, end of discussion. But a new church has had less time to absorb religious and holy fervor, so instead of an ongoing burning pain, Crowley experienced an initial, intense burn, which turned into a still painful, but tolerable, simmer. 

So now Crowley’s feet and knees were burned, and a ring sat on his finger. 

“D’ you have any aloe vera, angel?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, I’m afraid not. But I do have an idea.” And then Aziraphale did something rather unorthodox.

He used homeopathy, the inventor of which won’t be born for another five years, and the practice itself won’t be created for another forty-six years.

The idea of homeopathy is, simply put, “like cures like”, or using as a cure a substance that would cause similar symptoms in a healthy person. There was also the belief that the smaller the dose the more effective. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath and inspected Crowley’s foot. It was still red, and still blistered, and now black and red scales were starting to sprout up around where a blister had burst. 

_But what to dilute with? Definitely not just water, don’t want to make it Holy on accident! Maybe…_

Aziraphale licked his lips.

_Yes, that will definitely work._

Took a breath. 

Licked his lips again.

Kissed the top of Crowley’s foot.

“ _Ngkgkgkgkgkg angel, wh-wh-wh-oh!_ Now hold on, that doesn’t hurt anymore, what did you do?” Crowley grabbed his foot back to look at his healing skin. He watched the scales disappear, then glanced at Aziraphale, looking him up and down as if he was looking at him for the first time.

Aziraphale flushed and started sweating. Then he went cross eyed as a foot came into view and pinched his nose.

“Heal thissss one too pleassse!” Crowley whined.

Aziraphale sighed and took Crowley’s other foot in his hands, put the tiniest bit of holiness into his saliva, wet his lips, and kissed the top of the foot, near the ankle.

Aziraphale watched as the blisters shriveled up and the red disappeared from the skin. Sort of beside him on the couch, Crowley groaned in relief as his pain healed. 

Something in the air changed. Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who had again retrieved his foot and was lounging against the arm of the couch. He looked completely put together despite being in his underwear. Or he should, but Aziraphale knew otherwise, because he was watching it happen. 

Crowley’s irises seemed like they were consuming the whites of his eyes, slowly growing until they were completely yellow. His pupils were wide.

“If this is about making sure your reputation is upheld, angel,” Crowley’s voice was deep in his chest, “then we’ll have to make sure we act married until after we get that kid blesssssssss- _fuck_ , blessed! I’ll have to live here…and we’ll have to of course have sex so it’s legally binding.” Here Crowley paused to think. “How do they enforce that, anyway?” 

Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t know, Crowley, maybe they smell it.”

“Oh yeah, that makess ssensse I ssupposse.” Crowley’s hiss made Aziraphale’s spine tingle.

They stared at each other for several moments. Then Crowley was grabbing Aziraphale and hauling him into his lap. Their lips met and they were off to the races. 

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 8, Eight Days Until Herschel Birth** _

Aziraphale and Crowley go on a lunch date and a walk. While on their walk, Crowley accidentally bumped a man with his hoop skirt. The man stopped, and started yelling about “women and their fucking fads” or some such thing. Crowley gleefully geared up to yell back, but Aziraphale pulled him close and stuck his finger in the man’s face.

“ _Excuse me_ sir, but that’s _mY WIFE_ you’re speaking to.” Aziraphale did not yell.

The man went silent, then started crying.

“Go talk to a woman, for _God’s sake!_ ” Aziraphale commanded.

The man nodded his head, murmured his thanks, and ran away.

Aziraphale adjusted his cravat smugly, pretending to ignore Crowley’s staring.

That night, Crowley asked Aziraphale to hold him down.

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 9, Seven Days Until Herschel Birth** _

It rained all day. Aziraphale read books about midwifery and childbirth to Crowley. Around mid afternoon, Crowley jumped up after Aziraphale read another woman’s account of the pain that came with childbirth, and he started to pace. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” Aziraphale closed the book, watching Crowley.

Crowley chewed on his lip and fidgeted with his hair. “I’m fine, keep reading.”

————————————————————————————————————————————

**_March 10, Six Days Until Herschel Birth_ **

“Crowley, I said I was sorry for what I said about your panniers, please come down from the tree, dear.”

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 11, Five Days Until Herschel Birth** _

Aziraphale liked getting to live with Crowley. Anytime they had shared a home, it made the Angel feel particularly soft and domestic. From when they got married a few days ago to now, Aziraphale had dusted his house sixteen times. He washed dishes. He watched over Crowley while he slept. He brushed Crowley’s hair. He made Crowley tea. He took care of Crowley.

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 12, Four Days Until Herschel Birth** _

“So what did Hastur want the other day?”

“Ugh, uh, talkin’ about sssome team building exercise we’re supposed to do in a few cen-centuriess I think.”

“Oh, we do those in Heaven sometimes. They’re usually dreadfully boring.”

“Ngk, y-yeah it’ll probably sssssuck. _Angel_ do we have to talk about thissssssss right _now_?”

“Oops, sorry, dear! Back to it then!”

“Tha- _ah ah, hhhhhhhh!_ ”

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 13, Three Days Until Herschel Birth** _

**[REDACTED]**

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 14, Two Days Until Herschel Birth** _

It was evening, after dinner. Aziraphale was reading about childbirth to Crowley again. Crowley was sitting in an armchair in his pajamas, squirming and wriggling as if he was sitting on something uncomfortable. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet.

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT!” He yelled.

Aziraphale blinked several times in surprise, then set aside the book he was reading. “What isn’t your fault?”

Crowley was glancing around frantically, trying to find his glasses. He found them, retrieved them, put them back on, took a deep breath.

“Do you remember what was said when God was kickin’ Adam and Eve out of the Garden? According to The Good Book?”

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “Ehh, well it says that to you She said ‘Cursed are you above all livestock and all wild animals! You will crawl on your belly and you will eat dust all the days of your life.’ Which I think is rather silly seeing as how you were already crawling on your belly.”

Crowley stuck his tongue out. “The next part, what She said to Eve.” 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, but then he gasped. “ _Oh!_ ”

“Say it, please.”

“It, well, okay. ‘I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.’” _Oh no…_

“That’s not _exactly_ what She said to them, but they still blame me for it, humans do! That’sssssssso not fair!” Crowley had his hands on his hips. His elbows poked out like chicken wings.

“Innocent people get blamed for things they didn’t do all the time.”

“Now hold up! I am _not innocent_! Not even a little bit, angel!” Crowley squawked.

Aziraphale wiggled his eyebrows at the Demon. “I’ll say, dear!”

Crowley turned bright red. Aziraphale felt a flip flop in his stomach at being able to make him do that. Crowley straightened himself back up and looked like he was about to start yelling again.

“Did I ever tell you,” Crowley said, sounding surprisingly casual, “about the time I menstruated?”

“The time you what?!”

“Ah, that’ll be a ‘no’, then.”

“Elaborate, please!” Aziraphale demanded.

Crowley sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was a long, long time ago. Really Early still. Women kept cursing me every month, and when they would have kids, and I was curious. So I gave myself the whole setup, with the uterus and everything, and I told it to do its thing.”

Aziraphale was leaning towards Crowley, sitting at the edge of the couch. He was very close to jumping to his feet. “What happened next?”

“At first, nothing. Then, a month later I woke up in pain and covered in blood. It was _horrible_ , angel! And I was like that for a _week_! I would never make that happen to a person, it's awful.” Crowley crossed his arms and curled in on himself.

_I should tell him that it is his fault. He is the Snake that tempted Eve, after all. I shouldn't comfort him. I also shouldn’t be in love with him._

“It’s definitely _not your_ fault, Crowley,” Aziraphale declared.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“It’s? Its not?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale like that statement had somehow hurt more than being blamed for childbirth and menstruation pain. Like somehow Aziraphale believing Crowley was innocent of something was the most heartbreaking thing the Demon had ever heard.

So then Aziraphale _did_ stand up. He stood and picked up Crowley, who gurgled. 

Aziraphale didn’t have a goal in mind when he did it, he just knew he had to pick up Crowley, had to hold him, had to comfort him. 

It was just one of those feelings you get.

That Only One Action and One Action Alone is the Right Thing To Do Right Now.

This is different than feeling like something is the right thing to do. This is that feeling that you might get a couple of times in your life when you just suddenly _know_ with every fiber of your _being_ what you need to do. Like there is a flashing arrow over someone or something that only you can see, and you have to get to it and interact with it.

Aziraphale picked up Crowley like a child, one arm under his knees and the other under his back. Crowley’s arms snaked around his neck an instant later, and it made him smile. Aziraphale shifted his arms and the weight so he could let go with one arm to grab a book off the couch.

Crowley stiffened, then buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck. The Angel tightened his grip on the Demon to reassure him that he wouldn’t let him fall. 

Aziraphale swore he heard a tiny gasp in the general vicinity of his neck, but it quickly turned into a hiss, which in turn tickled him.

“Crowley, dear, control your tongue please!” Aziraphale laughed as he wrapped his arm back around Crowley’s legs. He set the book on Crowley’s stomach. 

Crowley flung his head backwards so he was draped dramatically in Aziraphale’s arms. His tongue hung a foot out of his wide open [mouth](https://www.google.com/search?q=snake+playing+dead+funny&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwiNoMnJuuDlAhVRR6wKHRsAAp0Q2-cCegQIABAC&oq=snake+playing+dead+funny&gs_l=mobile-gws-wiz-img.3..0i5i30j0i24j33i299l2.40412.41439..41517...0.0..0.117.525.2j3......0....1.........0.-ku8AjN6Tw8&ei=nm_IXY3ZNtGOsQWbgIjoCQ&bih=666&biw=1024&client=safari&prmd=vin#imgrc=AmUTbWFVUJ8hwM). His glasses fell off and landed on the floor.

Aziraphale sighed fondly and carried the Snake Demon to the bedroom they’d been sharing and set him in bed. Crowley stopped playing dead and wormed into the blankets. Aziraphale hummed and snapped to change into his pajamas, his clothes magically clean and hung up. He got into bed next to Crowley, rolled over, and pulled him close to him.

“I will tell you a story until you fall asleep,” Aziraphale said quietly.

“Mmkay, angel.”

“It’s a story about _love_!” Aziraphale said airily, to see what reaction he got.

Crowley glared at him out of the corner of his eye, which was an interesting juxtaposition to the blush that bloomed on his cheek.

“Its also about _foreskins_!” Aziraphale said, in the same inflection.

Crowley’s eyes bugged and he blew spit everywhere with this really ugly but sincere laugh.

Aziraphale waited patiently until Crowley was able to compose himself.

Crowley wiped his snot on his sleeve, miracled his pajamas clean, and rolled over in Aziraphale’s arms. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s nose brush against his neck.

“Tell me the story, angel.”

“Alright, dear. Be warned, it is from the Bible.”

“Argh, why?” Crowley grumbled.

“For one, to entertain you because it's a funny story. For two, to show you that some stuff in that book is a bit. Weird. And somethings get mistranslated, or misunderstood, and sometimes it really was like that.” Aziraphale tightened his arms. 

“Many people don’t even know this story. They pick out the pieces that support their petty worldview, and throw away the rest. Don’t let people who treat a book like that make you feel bad.”

Crowley snorted. “Okay, tell me the fucking Bible Story.”

“Oh, splendid! Do you remember King David?” Aziraphale asked.

“D-wh-do I remember King David? Is that what you just asked me?”

“You don’t have to be snippy, dear, it was a simple question.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, shifting into storytime mode.

“When David was a young man in King Saul’s court, he fell in love with Saul’s daughter, Michal, and they wanted to get married, but as you’ll remember, Saul _hated_ David and wanted him dead…”

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 15, One Day Until Herschel Birth** _

A child appeared at the house, red faced and out of breath. Aziraphale received the message. He told Crowley. They traveled together to the Herschel house. Crowley had a simpler dress this time, no panniers. Aziraphale lamented their absence. 

Aziraphale waited in another room with the children and assembled men, who were eating, drinking, and smoking. Soon Aziraphale was, too.

————————————————————————————————————————————

_**March 16** _

Aziraphale was listening to Crowley recount Caroline Lucretia Herschel’s birth.

Aziraphale was also definitely not on his _first_ glass of wine. A lot of Crowley’s words were turning into mush once Aziraphale’s ears caught hold of them. The Angel was paying more attention to the sound of his Demon’s voice. The way it rose and fell and shifted and snaked around his brain. 

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale suddenly exclaimed.

Crowley froze and looked around them.

At that moment Aziraphale remembered that they were in a restaurant. 

_Oops_. 

But no one was looking at them. 

“Right, sorry, uh, so the blessing went well, then?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah, right as rain. You owe me.” Crowley said this in a way that suggested he was winking behind his sunglasses.

“I owe you,” Aziraphale repeated. 

“Right.”

“Right.”

They sat in silence, staring at each other. Aziraphale could see Crowley twitching and fidgeting. This usually meant Crowley was going to say something he didn’t want to say. Aziraphale frowned.

_Please…_

“So, uh, this has been a nice week or so,” Crowley said.

_No…_

“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale muttered.

“But I’ve got to pop off to Leipzig soon.”

_Say something!_

“Be safe when you do.” _Not that!_

“Er, yeah, I will, angel.” Crowley looked at Aziraphale, his eyebrows furrowed.

“When will you be leaving?” Aziraphale asked, feeling something like a bird in his chest.

Crowley sat up straight, face going blank. “Tonight.”

The bird turned to glass, and shattered. It was tonight right now.

Aziraphale glanced around the table. He had already eaten his dinner and dessert and hadn’t even noticed. _How long did I just sit listening to his voice?_

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, feeling lame and numb.

“Okay,” Crowley said, sounding irritated.

Again, they sit in silence, staring. Then, quick as a snake, Crowley stands up, and is gone. Aziraphale watches him walk away. When he’s out of sight, Aziraphale drops his head in his hands.

“Oh, fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Hey y’all, if you want to check out the playlist I listen to when I write this, you can check it out here: https://open.spotify.com/user/312fnod5b6emlxyajlywwzvzbiru/playlist/1MGlwHmmLsgyogRNuw9v8s?si=fsqQIcDvRKW8uH3jwbvTEQ  
> ~To learn more about weddings in this period, check here: http://www.wondersandmarvels.com/2014/07/18th-century-marriage-customs.html  
> ~To learn more about Catherine Herschel, check here: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caroline_Herschel  
> ~The verse about childbirth comes from Genesis 3:16  
> ~the story about David and the foreskins is very weird and comes from 1 Samuel 18:25-27 and you can find a weirdly Anti-David article about it here: https://beholdingtheglory.org/2018/11/15/why-200-philistine-foreskins-matter/


End file.
